


Through the Sea

by emissaryarchitect



Category: Ava's Demon
Genre: I'll leave them out of their tags, Multi, but since they're not major For The Moment, is it flaming arrow? also yes, kind of a fluffy au, kind of a soulmates AU, there's also a lot more characters and implied characters as time goes on, there's not a lot of heavy gore or stuff in this, this is about selkies yes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2020-05-12 21:01:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19237021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emissaryarchitect/pseuds/emissaryarchitect
Summary: Recently sent away by her godmother, Ava finds herself living by a tiny little seaside town, where rumors of sea-folk and myths made real seem to follow her wherever she goes, in spite of her best efforts.





	1. Anchored

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Selkie AU I started back in 2016, and just kinda... forgot about? for a while? It's just sort of a silly AU to read for kicks, not as intense or mouth-kicking as my other AUs. It's definitely hugely inspired by Secret of Roan Inish, so check that movie out if you can manage to get your hands on it. 
> 
> I'm not completely done with this AU though, so, I thought I might post what I've got.

With the clouds full to bursting above her and the cold nipping at her ankles, Ava decided she liked the air here better already.

Just a day before, Ava had been in the faraway city, stuffed up in a small, loveless home with her godmother, where the clouds ran like thin milk across the sky and faded into smog. However, Wrathia had no patience for Ava, and finally reached her breaking point, she decided to send her godchild to an old friend who used to run a foster home.

Ava hadn’t minded, considering everything else she put up with, but now she minded even less – here, she could see the roaring grey sea, peppered with cooler blue clouds on the horizon, and watching the waves roll up onto the beach as her bare feet sunk into the wispy tall grasses, she felt clean. Her head felt clearer and more focused than ever before, and she felt as though each breath she took, she exhaled some of the foul smog that had been building in her lungs for so long.

She carried alongside her a small, ratty suitcase with her clothes, and she walked a worn path to the distant pastel blue foster home at the top of the hill. A brisk sea wind picked at her skirts and hair, like cool hands across her face and patting the backs of her knees.

It felt like home.

She couldn’t say why – of course, anything that didn’t have Wrathia’s inane screeching or searing insults could’ve been home by this point. She hoped her happiness would last as she came to the worn wooden steps of the foster home, paint peeling off the old, salty wood.

Knocking twice and taking a step back from the door, Ava waited. She heard rustling and panic, slight clatter – before it swung open, revealing a woman with beautiful thick hair and dark skin, and a smile brighter than the sun. “Hello! You must be Ava – I’m Nevy Nervine, Wrathia’s old friend! She mentioned telling you about me, all good things, I hope!” Ava dipped her head down in respect and greeting, but when she looked up, Nevy’s mouth was pursed.

“…Is there something wrong?”

“What? Oh no,” speaking snapped the woman from her thoughts, and Nevy drew back, inviting Ava in. She was wearing a new dress, bright blue and rippling like deep sea silk; Ava thought distantly that Nevy must’ve been someone to keep up with current fads, but her attention was drawn to the house.

It looked as though it was originally constructed for a large family, but as far as Ava knew, it was just Nevy and her adopted son who lived here. Apparently she had a reputation for getting attached to her foster kids, and her son, Gil, had stayed with her while the others had been adopted as was originally planned. Ava suspected that was Wrathia’s plan, to have Nevy keep and adopt her and get her off her hands for good, but Nevy was keeping her distance – maybe she had learned her lesson?

“So your room will be the one in the attic – I hope you don’t mind, its actually one of the cleaner rooms, and from Wrathia’s letters I thought you would like the view!” From her letters? Ava was surprised Wrathia communicated through anything other hisses and barks, or the clicking of cloven hooves.

Nevy led her down the winding halls, showing her the kitchen, filled with copper plated pots and pans, attractive ancient dishware preserved in wooden cubbies and dusty shelves, and into her room.

The attic was lovely, Ava thought, biting the inside of her cheek. It was empty, and a little dusty, but otherwise it spoke of secrecy and privacy. The view from the window led directly to the ocean, and Ava could see the path she walked and down to the beach. The corners were a little sandy, and the whole room smelled of old wood, but that made the room feel even sleepier, cozier. Ava always was fonder of places she could sleep in casually.

She exhaled a happy breath, realizing she could hear the sea from here. “I… _really_ like the view, miss Nervine.”

Nevy smiled brightly, though it seemed to falter at Ava’s gaze. “I’m glad! You’ll meet my son when he comes home from working at sundown – for now, unpack and make yourself comfortable!”

There wasn’t much to unpack, but Ava did her best to make the drawers and closets look lived in. She had few outfits, and she tapped the edges of her hanging dresses and skirts with distaste. Wrathia had bought them for her, and they were either a size off, or too gaudy to ever see the light of day.

Closing the wardrobe with a little effort – one of the doors was crooked – she unfolded the quilts Nevy left her and sank into the bed. This felt homier already.

When Wrathia gave quilts to Ava, they were used, and stained, often ratty and torn. The quilt she was sitting on spoke of years of love and tender rest, nautical patterns of seashells and seals along the patches of dyed cloth.

For the next few hours, she sat on her bed with her head nestled in her arms, looking out at the sea.

000

That night, Ava was finally introduced to the infamous Gil, a nice boy with dark skin and nearly silvery blond hair. He smiled broadly and clapped Ava’s shoulders when they met, before shaking her hand politely, apologizing for the rough sailor fashion. With his calloused hands and lithe frame, he looked a local fisherman – she guessed he worked on any one of the countless boats as a seaman.

During dinner, she was proven correct in her theory. “I fish for a living, but one day I hope to save up enough to become a doctor!” Ava thought that was a fine pursuit and nodded reverently, and he asked “You don’t talk much, do you?”

“I try not to,” she agreed, and he had laughed, before Nevy interrupted them to serve dinner. Of course, the meal had been fish, but Ava preferred it. She was used to much grimier meals in the city, greasy and grisly or purely alcoholic – that or Wrathia simply had revolting taste in food. She voiced her thanks several times to a much more relaxed Nevy.

“With your thin frame, one would’ve thought you hadn’t eaten in a thousand years,” Nevy stated as she ran the dishware under hot water after dinner, washing up, and Ava felt over her forearms with a frown. To be fair, the city had always made her feel a little sick…

“The sea air will do her some good,” Gil agreed. “And – do you have swimwear of any fashion?”

“Even if she does, I doubt she’ll use it,” Nevy interrupted with a little smile. “She doesn’t seem the type to go romping around in the low tide like you, Gil.”

He had reddened at that – even with his traumatic past, he loved the sea to the point that as a child, he had embarrassed poor Nevy a number of times with his antics.

They both turned to Ava to gauge her response, but she was distracted looking out the window, at the sea – the moonlight shone off the tide fantastically, and she felt a deep, primal urge to go running along the beach even now. She blinked when she realized they were staring at her.

“…what?”

Gil smiled and clapped his knee with a hoot. “That answers _that_ question!”

000

Ava had found out very quickly that the people of this tiny sea town seemed to be wary of newcomers, or at least, of her.

She didn’t mind it so much these days. Small towns were all about muttering and gossip, while in the clutter of the big city, people were more likely to try physical confrontation. She was glad that unspoken etiquette in small-towns kept that kind of thing from happening, at least for now.

Besides, she knew how to ignore people, or at least make them believe she was ignoring them, and usually her sour mood would be lifted by a knee-deep walk in the seawater at the beach. She found that usually every afternoon, when the sun was highest, she could wander down to the beach and collect seashells of every fashion. Often times her skirts would be soaked with seawater as she cupped the cloth up as a make-shift pocket to hold the shells, and she decorated her room with them.

Nevy seemed to be bothered by it at first, telling Ava that was no way for a girl to act – but Ava had only blinked her large, clear eyes unhappily and agreed softly that she would find somewhere else to put them, and that had dissolved Nevy’s attitude. Causing a quiet, awkward girl to suddenly have even lower spirits felt a bit like bullying, and Nevy knew what Wrathia was like.

“Never mind – this is your first time to the sea, right? I shouldn’t be so rough… later, I’ll find a nice trunk for you to put your treasures in,” she had assured, and that evening Gil produced a small wooden ship crate, telling her he used to collect shells in the same way.

“Keep them in here and they won’t get damaged!” he winked, and he passed her a fantastic blue shell with bright green on the inside, like a gem, and he said “That’s one I found as a boy, diving in the water – keep it!”

Ava decided she liked Gil very much, and from the way he patted her head and shoulders, he liked her too. At least sufficient enough to talk to her, though she wasn’t sure she could keep up with his medical jargon or biblical rants half the time.

Nevy was pleased by this, so pleased she didn’t complain when Ava left her shells and eventually, picked flowers, around the house.

Ava was happy.

Well, happy enough as she could be with the strange rumors revolving around her.

One evening as she was out fetching a basketful of eggs for Nevy, she heard another customer whisper “that’s her? But her hair is red – not black at all!” to another customer, who replied “look at her eyes!”

Ava had blinked at that, looking up to the nearby store window in confusion. Her eyes were a little big, yes, and maybe deeper, clearer, but there wasn’t anything astounding about them. They were just her eyes.

“You’re right!” the words had trailed into whispers when she had her basket and walked down the dirt street, trying to ignore what they said – but as she looked through her window in her room, she stared at the faint visage of her reflection, staring at her own eyes. What was it about her that caused such superstition?

Ava didn’t ask about it. It was better to ignore it and let it go away on its own. Sometimes people would say things, and snicker, and bully, just finding any reason at all to be suspicious. Once when Wrathia had a dinner party and Ava was hoisted into ostentatious clothing as to not ‘humiliate’ Wrathia, some older men had been passing glances and muttering to each other knowingly.

She had dipped her face against the fake fox fur Wrathia had nearly strangled around her shoulders and reddened, confusion and frustration scrambling her thoughts. Her anger mounted when a particularly grating character in a snappy white suit and glittering blue gems had said “Isn’t that novel? An animal wearing an animal.”

However, by the clean sea and playing in the sand, flashbacks to days like those were coming less and less. Why think about cigar smoke and liquor when she had the beach and the tide?

000

“These clothes are a little tattered, so use them if you plan on rough-housing,” Nevy told Ava, giving her a sun-bleached dress with too many patches, and Ava was overcome with the urge to change into it immediately.

She did so and set herself to swimming in the sea, and dipping into the water felt like a second skin. She treaded into the low tide before plunging herself into the cool waters, and she swam easily, freely – her arms seemed to barely move as she was underwater, and she could see clearly in salty depths the sea floor; she set herself to plucking seashells and other little gems from the sand with a liquid grace that had passersby’s doing double takes.

She found the most irritating thing was having to come back up to the surface for air, and she discovered more and more often as she went swimming in at noon, more and more locals would gather nearby, muttering and gossiping.

Eventually, she stopped swimming by the clear beach of Nevy’s home and further away, far from prying eyes and whispers to a rockier coast. There were more flowers here, but more broken glass buried in the sand, and on more than one occasion, she had come home limping with smarted, salty wounds on her feet.

They felt no worse than her upper arms, where wounds still mended from Wrathia’s abrasive ‘scolding’, so Ava didn’t limp as badly as she could’ve – she was used to this kind of pain.

Nevy _tsk’d_ , clicking her tongue, and helped her wrap her feet. Instead of heavily scolding, she only suggested Ava stop going swimming so much. Girls in the town were known for their beautiful garlands and flowers, their cooking skills and their sewing abilities, not for swimming like a seal.

Ava refused in her quiet way, with a scrunched frown and an unhappy exhale.

She didn’t know anything about those things. Wrathia hadn’t bothered to teach her, and she knew the sea like it was second nature. Why try to learn something that she would be worse than everyone else at, anyway?

She wouldn’t snap, but she knew she looked like a brat when she acted that way to Nevy’s proposition, and was always quick to help with the chores after out of guilt.

Her caretaker was always strangely sharp when it came to playing in the sea, and then soft and considerate after – Ava wondered if she’d had a bad run in with the sea as a child, or something, but never asked. She had heard rumors about how poor Gil had nearly drowned once, and chalked it up to paranoia.

Eventually, she had realized during her noon-time swims, she could see a little sandbar off in the distance. There, heaped and sunbathing, were seals – Ava felt her heart quicken when she saw them, like an excited flutter of seeing an old friend again, but she had never seen a seal in real life before.

Maybe that was where her excitement was stemming from, but as she stared out at them, she was overwhelmed with the urge to swim out to them, and run her fingers down their leathery coats – she didn’t, as that would’ve been obviously and undeniably foolish, but she watched them eagerly for nearly half an hour before realizing she hadn’t yet made it home.

From that day on, she always watched the seals after swimming.

000

This life was better than the one Wrathia had strangled into her, by leagues – here, she didn’t need to dodge seedy looking mobsters or lock herself in her room. Here, if a man was caught gawking, someone would smack the back of his head and scold loud enough to make their cheeks go red, shamed back into working instead of ogling. The women were tough, the men were quiet, usually, and Ava was mostly refreshed.

As much as someone can be refreshed with a torrent of rumors surrounding them.

Sitting there, helping Gil dry the dishes, she asked aloud “Why do people gossip about my eyes?”

He blinked in shock, as though struck, and he stuttered aloud “W-Well, it’s always the eyes or the hair, isn’t it?”

Ava replied only with a slow cock of her head.

“Oh, you – you don’t, uhm, you don’t _know_ , do you? You came from the city,” his words trailed off as he clutched a delicate plate, and he quipped “I’m no good at stuff like this, maybe – you should talk to Maggie? At the Market – she’s, uhm, she’s a better storyteller than me…”

Ava had quirked a brow at that, curious, but she was taciturn through years of Wrathia’s harsh attitude – so she didn’t ask anything more, and let Gil reveal where to find miss Maggie Lacivi.

That evening, Ava went out, and found the fabled Lacivi sitting at a flowerstand. Maggie looked up and did a double take, eyes settling on Ava’s with a little quirk to her pretty mouth – she was _exceedingly_ pretty, with a slender throat and fluttering eyes, with thickly curled hair that shone bright as emeralds in the summer sun. She only smiled and said “You must be Ava. The local gossip has been gabbing about you for the three weeks you’ve been here, you know.”

Ava grumbled unhappily “I know.”

Maggie looked her up and down, staring at her old dress and her mouth quirked a little again. “You’re not really blending in with an outfit like that, either.”

Anger tinged in head like a bee sting. “Am I supposed to thank you for that comment?”

The flowergirl blinked before snickering, pulling a sunhat out from behind her seat and plopping it on her head. “Oh, so that’s why you’re quiet – you’re _feisty_.” Ava glowered with a fluster, taking a handful of her dress, but said nothing, biting her tongue. “Mn, that’s fine. Better than being a pushover, I guess - and you were in the city, no wonder you look so sickly - So, why’re you here? Want some flowers?”

Ava blurted aloud “What’s wrong with my eyes?”

Maggie blinked in shock at firstly the loudness of her proclamation, and secondly at the absurdity of it. “What? Nothing! You’ve just got seeeooo _oooooh_ ,” the word dragged into realization “you don’t _know_.”

“Know what?” Ava bunched her hands to her sides in curled fists “No one has explained anything to me!”

Maggie put up her hands, as though calming a wild horse, “Actually, it’s more likely you just haven’t asked. I hear you talk about as much as a fish does.”

Ava reddened again, huffing, maybe she hadn’t! And why would she, when everyone was in a hustle behind her to keep passing rumors and gossip like it was a tithe.

She flipped the small sign on her stand to ‘closed’ and clipped a wooden board over her flowers to keep them from the wind, “Come with me.”

Ava did just that, following the beauty through the town and to the beach, and further than – to the ragged rocks black as oil and slick with sea spray, overhanging the waters dangerously. There Maggie sat, and she gestured to Ava to do the same, and they sat side by side looking at sea on uncomfortable ragged stones.

From there, Ava could see the sandbar, covered in seals. Her heart thrummed happily and some of her frustration ebbed at the sight of them, her shoulders dropping – Maggie watched her, before grabbing onto her shoulder and pointing at a black seal. “Say, what’s that?”

“I’m not stupid, Lacivi,” she grumbled, sea spray dampening their dresses “those’re seals.”

“Please,” Maggie put a hand up with a snort “I’m Maggie to friends.” Ava didn’t recall agreeing to being friends with her, but she was too pretty to be mean to. “Anyway, I don’t know about your bloodline, but I can tell you about the Arrows. I happen to be a fantastic storyteller - _Gil_ sent you, right?”

“Yes…” Ava replied hesitantly, drawing into herself a little.

“ _Good_ boy, that one.” Ava wasn’t sure how to feel about Maggie’s tone there. “Anyway - once upon a time...”

 Maggie told her a quiet story, in the comfort of the nearby roaring sea – about a seaman saved by a seal from a shipwreck. He lived at the town the seal had brought him to, and, eventually, grew to love the town. Ava wasn’t sure what this had to do with her situation, but she was very much invested in this ‘Arrow’ sailor with Maggie’s vibrant storytelling, especially when she mentioned how scary it must’ve been for the sailor.

“You see, experienced seamen know when a tide turns bad and they’re in the water, to swim down and start swallowing water – but because he didn’t, he was saved. But now, he didn’t want to return home - he had a little fear of the sea, and he could stay, if he liked. Soon he was as good as any fisherman - but one day, he traveled off to Aedinfell - a tiny sandbar known for good fishing - and he saw a most peculiar sight.”

Maggie glanced to Ava, who was leaned forward – her vibrant red hair was spilling across her front as she listened, fully engaged and invested. Maggie drank in every second of it – there were few who would put up with her dramatics these days.

“There was the seal he knew to have been the one to rescue him... all dark, and beautiful. Many fisherman hunted them for their pelts but he had done no such thing - and watching, a most interesting event occurred.” She clicked her tongue. “He had heard of _selkies_ \- seals who turned human on land, shedding their leather skin - but he didn’t believe it. Not until that moment.”

Ava inhaled sharply. Something about this felt distantly familiar, like a memory that wasn’t hers but she could still recall dreamily.

“The Arrow watched as fins turned to fingers and leather to skin - he watched as she shed her leather coat and he saw the most beautiful woman in his life. He had also heard that if you took a selkie’s coat, they could not leave, bound to those who claim them - so he slipped it into his arms, and told her ‘hello’. They spoke, and of course, eventually fell in love.”

The sea roared beneath them, and the sudden splash snapped Ava from the vision – she could almost see it happening, leather spreading to thin boned fingers – she didn’t know why this image was so painfully familiar, but she latched onto it with such ferocity it scared even herself.

Maggie was smiling, faintly, _knowingly_ – before she continued. Ava wondered distantly why she looked nearly smug. “He took her home and hid the coat, and they were wed - they had many children, but most interestingly, all the children had either inky black hair, or large, watery eyes, deep as the sea.”

Clouds were gathering on the horizon, but hadn’t reached them yet. The sun still warmed their backs and dried their feet, but they could both feel the cool prick of the oncoming storm in the far distance.

“However, all things come to an end... at the end of ten years, one of the selkie woman’s children came to her and asked _why does father hide a leather coat in the attic?_ And chains of steel nor chains of love could keep her from the sea. That night, when mister Arrow returned home, he knew in the faces of his children that his wife had returned to the sea.”

The sea’s roars hadn’t stopped, and Ava felt raw and sharp on the inside, as though the salty cuts on her feet were in her heart now. “That’s not a very happy story, Maggie.”

Maggie laughed “I guess it isn’t. I promise I’m usually a happier storyteller than that - but here now - _watch_.”

Ava looked up and spotted a little boat drifting across the water. It was easy to see, whitewash wood against dark grey waters, and inside, a man with inky black hair and dark eyes watched the water. He rolled up his sleeves – observing and studying the water with such dark, _dark_ eyes- and dipping his arm in, he pulled out a fish with his bare hand, tossing it into the boat. He waggled his arm unhappily moments after, as though disgusted at having to put himself anywhere near the water.

Ava watched, transfixed.

Maggie whispered “ _That_ specimen right there is Odin Arrow. Poor thing - caught between earth and water, a selkie with no leather coat.”

She finally dragged her eyes away from the man in the boat below them. For some reason, his first name seemed to be on the tip of her tongue, but his last name startled her enough to double it with Maggie. “An Arrow? Like the one from your story?”

“A descendant - but selkie blood does not purge easily, if _you’re_ any indication of that.”

She gawked stupidly, a lock of hair getting stuck in her mouth with the expression. “ _What_?”

“You might not have the hair, girlie, but you’ve got the sea eyes if I’ve ever seen em’. They could outshine any of the Arrows,” Maggie replied matter-of-factly, folding her arms as though that was the end of the conversation. Ava sputtered out the lock of hair in disbelief.

“I’m - _what_!” she stood up, frowning “I’m _not_ a selkie descendant! That was just a story, don’t tease me!”

Her storytelling companion hadn’t moved at all, and instead only smiled broadly. “Oh, really?” she questioned, and at Ava’s firm nod, she cocked her head twice towards the water.

Ava frowned, and looked back to the nearby crashing waves, only to see the Arrow-boy was sitting up in his boat. He was looking directly at her, dark eyes wide and mouth slightly parted, as though transfixed – he dropped the fish in his hand back into the water with surprise with a _plop_.

In that moment, Ava knew – in the same way she knew the sea, he _knew_ her somehow, and that primal realization struck her deeply in the ribs, electrifying her from her heart all the way out to her fingertips and the soles of her feet. Not knowing how to react to this sensation, she bolted away from the sea, and the dark rocks. Her feet took her across the soft beach and to the edge of town, where her heart beat wildly in her chest, like a bird fluttering in a cage too small.

She couldn’t breathe in her wild panic, her hair thrown about her face, and the image of his transfixed expression was so vivid in her mind she hid behind a barn to catch her breath, her legs still damp from the sea spray and finding little bits of hay clinging to her skin. She sunk down and buried her face in her arms and knees.

Maggie was either chasing after her or anticipated where she would be hiding, because not minutes after, she heard the gentle patter of footsteps on grass.

"...hey there selkie."

Ava still had her head in her arms, and buried them deeper in confusion at Maggie’s affectionate tone.

"Surprised? I thought you might be, coming from the city and all," she replied softly, yet still in a self-congratulatory tone – Ava felt a ball of bitterness well up in her throat.

"...m' not a selkie person."

"You know how to swim without moving your arms, like the Arrows, and the seagulls always seem to flock when you’re close - and I promise Odin's noticed you by now,” Maggie added with a little devilish smile.

"What does _that_ mean?"

Glancing up, Maggie was already walking around the other side of the barn, saying aloud waving her sunhat above her head “I’ve got work! See you later, selkie!”

She snapped “My name is _Ava_!” she added under her breath “and I’m not a selkie person.”

Ava sat in the hay for many minutes, combing over the past few moments with growing anxiety. Maggie might’ve been fooling her, pulling her leg for fun to watch the new girl squirm, but she didn’t seem the type to go that far, not when she had arms to punch people she didn’t like.

Plus, there was the strange feeling that welled up in her chest at seeing Odin, and how he looked at her with a strange, clear realization – he had seemed equally relieved and surprised to see her.

The cloth of her dress was rumpling with how tightly she was holding the old handfuls. Nevy would be expecting her home soon, but she didn’t want to take the usual path home and risk meeting gawking townsfolk. Instead, she walked a long path back she had never taken before, winding all the way around the town and behind the hills. It was a longer, harder walk, and her calves were burning when she came to the back entrance of her new home.

She sighed and entered from the back door, running a hand through her hair. The tough walk made her feel better, grounded her, but that strange sensation hadn’t receded. Her dress was still rumpled and damp too, and Gil peeked his head around the doorway.

“Busy day, making friends?”

Ava blinked, confused.

“Oh, I just assumed- ah, Odin Arrow dropped by just a few minutes ago, asking by your full name and all. I thought maybe Maggie introduced you, but maybe he was just sent for a letter or something.”

Her heart thrummed again, almost to the point of pain – With a furious shake of her head, she rushed upstairs, much to Gil’s confusion, and she shut her door firmly as though afraid the dark-haired boy was on her heels.

Sighing, she dropped onto her bed and looked into her chest of treasures. Her shells usually lifted her spirits, but now they just served as another clue that she was perhaps not entirely human, or was strange enough to be considered part of a local legend.

Ava shut the chest with her foot and slipped her shoes off her feet, instead deciding to lean against her windowsill and watch the sea. However, glancing across the small, grassy plane, she spotted a figure sauntering down the hill. Squinting, she gasped and nearly backed away from the window as she recognized who was walking away – _Odin_.

He couldn’t have heard her, but he stopped and looked over his shoulder. Ava dropped onto her bed with her hands over her mouth in panic, and she could hear her heart lurching in her ears like a pair of drums in her veins.

She couldn’t tell how, but she knew Odin stood there for a minute or two in contemplation – weighing his options – before finally turning around and continuing down the path.

She exhaled a heavy breath in relief, and laid on her bed for many hours after, her mind awash with recent memories of the sea, his indigo eyes as he stared at her from his boat, and the vision she had of the selkie-woman from the sandbar manifesting in her mind.

000

“Are you _sure_ you’re not friends?”

Ava glanced up from breakfast. A few days had passed, and her appetite had not yet returned. Her encounter with the Arrow left something shifted inside her, like a prickling muscle pulled under her ribs.

“Who?”

“You and Odin. He drops by sometimes asking for you, but you’re usually out.”

Another shiver down her spine, but she found it familiar and not entirely too gruesome to deal with, and not as shocking as the first time she felt it. She shook her head. “I haven’t even spoken to him,” she replied softly, and Nevy’s eyes glittered with mirth as she pulled a huge metal pot from the cupboard.

“Maybe he’s got a crush on you.”

“Mom,” Gil warned with upturned brows “don’t tease.” But they both glanced to Ava, who was strangely silent – even she was startled by how the protests were caught in her throat, and she only stared at her food with a hot blush crawling up her cheeks.

The thought of anyone having a crush on her was simply too much.

Nevy had laughed at her bashful expression, but pressed the matter no further – for the moment.

000

For once the clouds had departed and left golden sunlit across the usually grey seaside town, and Ava found the little puddles trickling between the cobblestones in the market flashed like precious metals as she stepped over them. It was charming, and soothing, yet she couldn’t relax. Not a bit.

There was a tug in the back of her mind, as though someone was pulling her hair softly – it was fuzzy, and cool as a spring storm, and she _knew_ Odin was in town because of it.

She couldn’t say how.

The number of things she couldn’t explain were beginning to pile up, and it was starting to weigh her down in a way. She was jumpier, and had stopped swimming lately – Nevy suggested the sea had lost its novelty to her, but Gil could sense something deeper. He was not an Arrow or a selkie child, but the sea liked him still, and he knew something was off with Ava as they bought bread and eggs.

Ava looked over her shoulder again, her thick scarlet hair tossing about her shoulders. When she turned like that, it seemed as though her locks caught fire, and Gil found it pretty – the local boys found it prettier, and he wondered if she was nervous of being catcalled again.

“Ava? Are you alright?”

She snapped her mind away from the tug, and replied neutrally “Yeah, just – I don’t feel quite like myself. Maybe I’m getting sick.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. She didn’t feel like herself, and for all she knew Maggie had been teasing her, and she _had_ been getting sick.

That would be such a mercifully simple explanation. Ava knew that couldn’t be it.

Glancing up, she found, conveniently, Maggie’s flowerstand was only across the street. She was selling some flowers to a passing tourist and smiled her perfect smile, earning her another dollar just for her charm. They locked eyes and Ava bobbed her head in greeting, and Maggie tipped her sunhat. At least they were in good standing and her confusion hadn’t worried a potential friendship.

The tug pulled again, and she didn’t act on it instantly in an act of rebellion – however she was a moment too late and spotted Odin’s vaguely familiar gait as he walked down the street with a bag over one shoulder.

For a split second they looked at each other, and his face dawned with something like interest and hope, brows upturning on a handsomely framed face, his broad shoulders rising in anticipation – Ava felt heat rise to her cheeks and she snapped her face the other direction.

“I’m going to check and see if Gev has any more flour; Ava, can you buy the eggs? Thank you!” Gil left without another word, ducking into the nearby store, and Ava found her words trapped in her throat.

The egg cart was right over on the corner, and she struggled to control her breathing as she meandered towards it – the tug revealed to her that Odin was watching her every movement, and she could feel his eyes on the back of her head as though her scalp was on fire.

She somehow found her words, pulling out her coin-purse with trembling fingers.

“Half a dozen eggs, please,” she requested politely, her voice still so quiet.

A deep, dulcet voice said next to her “I’ll p-pay.”

She froze, feeling the warmth of someone standing close to her right – she tried not to glance up, but the combination of the flurry in her chest and her own curiosity got the best of her, and she looked up anyway.

Odin was standing so close they could brush elbows, and the glow of the sun cast a strange shadow on his features. His skin seemed a touch too pale, too thin – she could see the faint tributaries of veins across his eyelids, and the scruff on his face seemed out of place for the posture of someone so anxious and young. His eyes darted to hers, dark and inky as glass obsidian, and she stared, unblinking, back.

“Here you are, miss,” she broke the stare as she took the few eggs into the basket hanging over her forearm, and sure enough, Odin paid. She tried to thank him, but as she opened her mouth, he spoke first while the egg-seller gathered another batch for the Arrow.

“N-New in t-town, right?” he asked aloud, softly as his voice would allow – a little whispering voice in the back of her mind suggested it was because he was trying not to scare her away, and that made her fluster more.

“…yes…” she dipped her chin down to her collarbone and stared at her feet, and at the puddles of golden water reflecting the light of the sun. He didn’t continue, so she did, adding “I’ve only been here a month…”

He replied in a neutral hum, nestling his eggs in the satchel over his arm. She found herself tracing his hands with her eyes – the dip between his fingers seemed to be a bit higher than most people’s, like the webbing of a seal’s flipper. She cast the thought aside bitterly, planning on walking away from this precariously awkward situation, before he offered “M-May I w-walk you back to your home?”

“Eh?” she glanced back up to him as she was pushing a lock of hair from her face – the sun blinded her for a moment and she blinked rapidly, continuing “I – oh – uhm –” before Gil, like the angel he was, ducked out of the shop with a smile and a sack of flour.

“I got the flour from that pennypincher! She’ll be so pleased,” he laughed, referring to Nevy, and without thinking he took Ava by the arm and informed her that they had to hit the local boats as to find out his fishing plan for tomorrow. Ava looked over her shoulder once, both relieved to be free of the conversation and also horribly embarrassed for herself and Odin – however, he only blinked, watching her walk away with a small shrug before continuing the other direction. He must’ve had more errands.

She exhaled and listened to Gil speak, trying to cast the conversation behind her.

“-so, if all goes well, the other men suggested we make a stop at the other town across the way. I know a few people from the town are coming on the ship so they can check their imports – say!” Gil perked up “Why not come on the ship with me tomorrow? It’ll be boring at first, with the fish and all, but once we hit the next town over you might be able to buy yourself something! Like some new shoes, or a dress!”

The thought was appealing enough. Anything to help her blend into this town would be heavenly, so she rolled the idea over in her head a few times. She had no fear of boats, or sea sickness, or the like – what she was most anxious about was the idea that she might be alone in shopping in a new town.

“I know Maggie is coming along. I think she wanted to buy herself some new earrings?”

That little hook alleviated Ava’s worry, a little. If push came to shove she could just ask Maggie for help, and she agreed, as long as Nevy would allow it.

Of course, when they finally made it home, Nevy was more than supportive of the idea. Anything to get Ava to act like more of a normal girl – including shopping – was heavily reinforced by her temporary foster mother, so Nevy gave her a little purse with some extra coin, and told her to buy herself a nice dress tomorrow.

Ava smiled in excitement – Nevy and Gil had assumed it was the thrill of a young girl getting new trinkets, but her thoughts were on the sea.

The thought of being in open water was far more exciting than the promise of a new dress.


	2. Adrift

She awoke early the next morning, all dressed as nice as she could be with her hair brushed just enough, and with the purse under one arm she set to walking with Gil to his ship.

It wasn’t a grand vessel by any means, but it wasn’t small, either – just modest enough for a small crew to collect nets of fish, with a little room to spare for passengers. Gil had directed Ava to a set of crates she could sit on away from where the men pulled up fish, and Maggie was already over there.

She was overdressed for the occasion, wearing fantastic green skirts and a bonnet with flowers lacing the top, but she welcomed Ava to sit next to her anyway.

As the ship set sail for the next town over, Ava watched the water eagerly. Seagulls seemed to sweep by her ears and tickle her hair, and she laughed at their strange mirth towards the redhead.

“Strange,” one of the ship boys said as he helped hoist up another net “don’t the seagulls just do that with you, Odin?”

Ava felt her blood run cold, and her laughs choked in her throat. He was here? Why hadn’t the tug-?

She stopped herself again. Why had she been relying on this strange, sixth sense, exactly? The thought that it was already ingrained so deeply that she was startled by the lack of its presence was more unnerving than Odin’s company on board, and she looked over her shoulder to see he had been staring directly at her – dark eyes locked on her form as strong arms yanked the net onto the boat, filled with fish.

Her cheeks went hot with the intensity of his stare and she turned away, staring back into the water.

“I’m surprised he decided to come along,” Maggie noted aloud. “He really doesn’t like the water all that much – a _special brand_ of dislike for it – but he came anyway. Said something about needing more coin. I wonder what _really_ convinced him to come on board?”

Ava’s blush only intensified at her suggestive words, and she snapped “Keep your romances to your stories, storyteller.”

Maggie appeared shocked at first, mouth slightly open and eyes wide, before she replied in awe “Odin says that sort of thing to me too. I wonder if it’s a selkie thing?”

Ava turned the other way indignantly, staring out at the island they were slowly departing. If she was to fall out of the boat, she was close enough to swim to it – she considered it before laughing it off, the thought of her trying to swim in a lumpy dress almost comical enough to shake off Maggie’s words.

Soon, however, Ava was distracted by the lull of the sea, and Odin of his work. Maggie muttered that was boring, but Ava brushed off her words with only a tinge of irritation.

The seagulls drifted lazily above them as the lap of the water slapped the sides of the ship, as a rider does to a horse, almost – there were clouds in the distance, but the wind hadn’t yet decided whether they would muddy the unusually sunny weather or to steer clear.

Ava had her arms folded under her chin, leaned against a taller crate, looking out over the water. The edge of the horizon shimmered gold, and silver, and she wondered if water could possibly splash the sun and if pearls would drop where they touched.

They were passing a few sandbars now, and the crew picked up their pace and took care with steering the boat. More than once a sandbar under the surface of the water rocked the boat or even stuck it, and a few unfortunate members of the crew would have to pop down and pry it from its wedge.

Ava stared at the sandbars with the urge to leap down and collect the precious shells teetering on the tip of her tongue. She could see a few, washed up on the soft sand, and she almost wished the ship would get stuck so she could explore a little.

A crewmember – Gev, perhaps? She hadn’t memorized names - walked a little close to her and stopped, before saying “Ah, lucky day!” and he pulled out a harpoon from a small pile at the edge of the deck. Interested, Ava looked up to what he was staring at, and found a grand little seal sunbathing on a sandbar. It had fantastic spots and beautiful slick fur – and Ava could see Gev was aiming straight for it.

Just as Maggie snapped “Gev, _don’t_!” Ava had already leapt out automatically and tackled the boy, the tip of the harpoon slicing across her forearm and ultimately, missing its mark. It pattered the sand next to the seal pathetically, and the seal, startled, flopped into the water and vanished.

Maggie helped Ava upright as she clutched her arm. The wound was by no means fatal, but it was deep, and she hissed in pain as Maggie pulled out her kerchief.

“What were you _doing_?!” the crewmember berated, irritated “a coat like that would’ve gotten me at least two hundred in the town over!”

“It’s bad luck to harm a seal,” Gil reminded, unable to drop the net he was holding onto but concerned for Ava all the same “and whether you believe it or not, have some respect for the people on board who do.”

Gev swore under his breath, and a dangerously low voice asked “A-Are you g-going to apologize to Ava?”

The girl herself was too distracted by the burning pain in her arm to look up, trying to stifle the bleeding with the thin white cloth Maggie had given her, but the rest of the crew felt an eerie, frigid aura coming from the usually neutral Odin Arrow. He was standing stiffly, his shoulders raised and his arms crossed – and those inky dark eyes had never seemed so animalistic until now, his gaze predatory.

They knew if he would frown, the frown would turn into a snarl that would seemingly transform the features of his face into something mimicking the roar of the sea – they had seen it once before, when another crewmember had nearly run the boat into a whale.

Gev looked down at his feet. “I apologize, miss Ava…”

Ava only waved her hand in reply, dismissively – the salty sea air wasn’t helping with the pain, and Maggie helped her sit back on the nearby crates as they inspected it. The skin was split raggedly. Chances were, even if Gev _had_ hit the seal, by the dull point of the harpoon it would not have been a clean death.

Ava clutched her wound so tightly her fingernails left little crescent shapes in her skin, and Maggie frowned at her carefully concealed anger.

There was something wholly unnatural and repulsive about harming a sea creature like a seal, and once again Ava could not place where that line of thinking had come from. However, she was so frustrated by Gev’s impulsive and greedy antics, she tossed that thought aside to let her wrath fume a little.

“He probably wouldn’t have hit it,” Maggie tried to sooth, halfheartedly “he’s not exactly a good aim.”

“But he still _wanted_ to,” Ava grumbled heatedly, pulling the kerchief away from her arm; it was quite red now, almost as red as her hair, and she frowned in guilt that she had ruined one of Maggie’s things.

The freckled beauty only waved it off with a smile and a shrug, anything to help cool Ava’s anger – with the cloth so thoroughly spotted and soaked, it was only smearing bloody streaks across her skin. It would do no good to wrap her arm in it, so she folded it up and put it in another pocket of her purse, and let her wound smart painfully in the open air.

The slice looked bad, too. Ava’s hands were folded neatly in her lap, but the tear across her arm ruined what would’ve been a charming sight to see, the reddened and enflamed skin only making her appear to be a weak and fragile creature, instead of a girl on an adventure to a new town. The whole affair with the near slaughter of a seal ruined her appetite for shopping, too, and she wanted nothing more than to be home.

Odin kept glancing to her, worriedly, and she felt the tug but couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. He had defended her though, didn’t he? So strange and so familiar…

Her wish to be home seemed to be granted in the worst of ways, as the storm took a turn for the foul. As though upset at the attempt on the life of one of her children, the sea’s attitude turned sour and it was beginning to be trouble navigating the ship – the waves lull heightened to a full roar and the ship was starting to rock uneasily underneath the crew and passengers.

“This storm’s taken a turn for the worst,” the leading worker aboard stated aloud firmly “we’ll have trouble getting the ol’ girl back to the mainland, but – Gil? Can you take the girls on a dingy? Chances are the water closer to shore is a little easier to navigate, and this ship’s too old to move faster than a crawl.”

Gil agreed hastily – this wasn’t the first time they had done this, Maggie had assured Ava – and they both neared the side of the ship where the smaller boats hung snugly.

Maggie gripped Ava’s left arm so that she could lower herself into the dingy first without damaging her sliced right arm any further, but the moment Ava’s tiny shoe made contact, the rope holding up the dingy snapped – Ava’s other foot whacked against the edge of the ship as her and the dingy fell into the water, Maggie’s nails streaking grooves into Ava’s arm as she tried to keep her on the ship but failing, her grip not tight enough to pull the girl back up.

First the boat hit the water, slapping against the waves, and Ava into it, with heavy “ _umph_!” and the crawl of pain in her ankle and spine. The wood creaked eerily underneath her and her sight was dizzy.

“Ava!” She heard Gil call out, but the impact with the dingy blotted her vision, her head swimming, and she called out in response – the world around her was coming into focus just as quickly as it was fading away, and Ava realized with panic that fog was gathering around them.

“Gil!” Ava called out again, trying to sit up and wincing – there was barely a muffled response, stifled by the fog – she called out his name again, and ears straining, there was no answer.

Claustrophobia from the tiny ship and the thick fog clawed at Ava’s throat and she screamed out – “Gil! Maggie! _Anyone_?!” but the fog swallowed it up all the same.

Ava was determined, however, and she straightened herself up as well as she could. Her ankle was tingling in an abnormal fashion, and when she tried to move it spikes of pain crept up it. She suspected it was sprained, and real, dark fear leapt up in her heart when she realized that if her pathetic dingy were to sink, she couldn’t swim away.

Her heart beat hard in her ears as she leaned against the side of the dingy and continued calling out. The wound on her arm was bleeding a little again from her panic, and she held it tightly, tears threatening to spill across her cheeks – stay calm, she tried to reason with herself. Stay calm, the fog will clear and you will row to shore. Stay calm.

However, she couldn’t be sure how much time was passing as the sea carried her. Was she being dragged out so far to sea, that when the fog cleared, she wouldn’t be able to see any land?

She couldn’t risk rowing without knowing where she was going, but she didn’t want to sit silently, wretched and pitiable with a sprained ankle alone in a little dingy – so she continued calling for help.

Eventually, her voice began to go hoarse and she stopped, swallowing down thick film in her throat and leaning back in the boat. She still couldn’t see a thing – she recalled what Nevy said, to be careful, and silently apologized to her caretaker. She also thought of Wrathia – what would she say?

Probably something along the lines of “serves you right” or words equally unappealing and acidic.

The memory of Maggie telling her story at the black cliffs sprang to mind, and how she had spoken gravely “a good seaman knows to swim down and swallow water for a quick death” and another spike of fear shot down her spine so fiercely it physically hurt – or maybe that was from the fall into the dingy? She cursed Gev, deciding the faulty rope was probably his fault, and then she cursed herself, too, for thinking she could go out and have a good time for once.

Her thoughts were churning with anxieties and fears, and eventually resignation – she had read in plenty of fantasy novels seamen being stranded in the fog and somehow, _miraculously_ finding their way back – but those were fiction, and she hadn’t heard of many occasions where someone had come back from the sea and the fog, lost, and unharmed.

She curled up in the boat, hearing the lapping of the sea against its sides, and she cried.

Time passed. Ava didn’t know how long, and was measuring it in the puffiness of her eyes and the drying of the blood on her arm. Maybe an hour, or two-? It was hard to tell, and the fog lifted very little – only enough to see that from a few meters all around was seawater, and that could mean anything. She could be feet away from the shore, or miles.

She wanted someone to rescue her. She didn’t want to be alone, _alone_ , and wounded not fatally but just enough to be unable to help herself – she sat up, drawing her knees to her chest and putting her forehead against them.

Her ankle hurt. It was swelling badly, so she undid the little ties on her boots and slipped them off. If she was going to even attempt to swim, she wouldn’t need shoes anyway. Her ankle was swollen red with splotches of purple splaying out deep within, and gingerly touching the surface of her skin burned, so she buried her face in her arms once again.

She sat like that for a while. She might’ve fallen asleep, but maybe not – the terrible, treacherous fear in her stomach kept her awake, and her mind was buzzing still with panic in spite of her stiff body.

Something bumped her boat and it rocked. Her heartrate spiked terribly and she clutched the sides of the little boat – was it a great white shark, maybe, coming to tear her boat apart? Or maybe a massive whale, or maybe something far worse – her fear conjured up the image of a terrible creature that would be her death, and she was frozen stiff.

The boat rocked again and she almost closed her eyes tight, but instead something grabbed onto the edge and pulled – instead of knocking the boat over, the form hopped into the boat with a hearty splash and a thump.

All sopping wet, Odin Arrow looked up to Ava and blurted “Ava! Are y-you hurt- A-Are you ok-okay?”

She had never been so glad to see someone, and she burst into tears instantly. She didn’t mean to, she wanted to reply and tell him that her ankle sort of hurt and that she was relieved to see him and _anything else but crying_ , but the relief overwhelmed her and spilled across her cheeks hotly.

Odin seemed stunned for a moment, dripping wet and extremely unhappy about that, but he gathered his senses and she felt his hands on her shoulders, holding her softly, and he spoke very quietly and slowly. “I-It’s okay,” he reassured her, for several minutes until her tears had come to a trickle and her relief was through spilling over the edge.

Ava hiccupped uncontrollably for a few moments, and managed to sputter out “H-How d-did you fi-ind me-?”

His dark eyes were soft, now, not dark like the inside of a predator’s mouth, but dark as a lover’s bed at midnight, and he replied “I h-heard you.”

Ava knew she had not made a noise in what must have been an hour. She _knew_ this – her heart still managed to leap into her throat as Odin’s usually neutral mouth thinned into a knowing smile and his grip on her shoulders tightened, ever so slightly.

“I’ll t-take you home.” He grabbed onto the oars, nestled neatly beside Ava, and she didn’t ask how he knew where the shore was. Instead, she curled in on herself as he began rowing, strong strides cutting through the water.

She was looking at her feet, but she knew he was looking at her – not much else to look at, with the fog, she supposed, but she could feel his eyes traveling from her own down her throat, to her hands, and then to her feet.

“Wh-What happened t-to your an-ankle?” There was an urgent quality to his voice she had heard when he leapt onto the boat, and now, again – he was worried for her.

“Oh – when I fell out of the boat, my foot got caught on the edge and twisted when I fell.” She moved her foot experimentally but winced instantly after.

“D-Do you st-still have your purse?” Blinking and feeling her shoulder, she found with surprise that she did. She hadn’t been focused on that before, but now she was a little grateful that Nevy’s funds hadn’t gone to waste. Handing it to Odin, he pulled out the browned handkerchief and wrapped it carefully around her foot, creating a cradle to keep it in place a little easier. His fingertips were cold.

She stared at his hands, and realized they were trembling. Was he scared, or excited? She couldn’t tell with a face so neutral, and she wasn’t about to ask. She was just relieved he was here, that _someone_ was here.

He pulled back and continued rowing. Silence dominated the air between them, and Ava hadn’t minded until she realized Odin was staring at her – at her eyes. She swallowed hard. It was just the two of them on this boat, and she hadn’t any suspicions that he was going to do anything nefarious to her, but it was still instinctual to curl in tighter on herself all the same.

He opened his mouth, then closed it, and then apparently found his words. “Wh-Where are you f-from…?”

Ava blinked in surprise. She hadn’t expected that question, and she straightened out a little. “Ah… I’m from the city.”

“A-And your p-parents?”

“I… didn’t know them,” she admitted, looking away. Wrathia had made certain that the lack of certainty in her lineage would be a shameful point in her many scolding’s, so Ava had made a habit of not looking people in the eye as she spoke about it. “They died when I was very young. My godmother raised me for a while, and she got sick of me, so she sent me here.”

Odin made an interesting humming noise in the back of his throat. It was hard not to look at him, and she had the urge to memorize every feature of his face, and in such close proximity – like back at the market, buying eggs – she couldn’t deny her instincts and she finally looked back to him.

His gaze was soft, still, eyes half lidded and gentle – affectionate, curious but respectful – they stared at each other for a long moment, and Ava blinked and looked down to his hands, where his grip was slipping of the oars. Immediately his grip tightened again and he continued rowing, but harder – had she embarrassed him?

He didn’t look embarrassed, but the tug said otherwise, and there was a blush to his ears.

Ava blinked when sunlight hit her face, and looking up the fog was clearing – Odin had been rowing them directly to the shore. She hadn’t been that far off, and she could see the ship by the docks, and Maggie and Gil waiting at the beach with a handful of other crewmembers.

A smile split her face in relief and she put a hand to her chest, as though trying to sooth her heart. Soon they had neared enough that Gil called out to them, spotting them, and Ava responded with a wave – her throat was still a little raw from screaming into the fog.

“Th-The water sh-should be sh-shallow soon,” Odin murmured, and Ava sat up to dive in but her ankle smarted and she winced again, her fingers automatically going to hold at the twisted muscle delicately.

Odin stopped rowing and set the oars down, and instead, after a single moment of trepidation, he leapt into the water – it came up to his chest – and he pulled the boat close to shore. When the water was up to his knees, he turned to Ava. She expected to have to hobble out on one foot like a cripple but to her surprise he dipped down and put a hand under her knees and one behind her back, lifting her from the boat.

She squeaked in surprise, but he only rumbled “J-Just a moment,” and carried her to shore, where Gil was already in hysterics that she was safe. His arms were strong underneath her, and she swallowed hard, face hot. His fingers had curled under her thighs, cradling her carefully, as though she was the most precious treasure.

Odin hesitantly handed her over to Gil, who took the weight with less grace. “H-Her ankle is t-twisted,” he informed neutrally, and Ava turned to him, her hair clinging to her face. She gestured for him to come close and Odin, curious, cocked a brow and reached out with his hand expecting a handshake.

Ava instead took his hand and kissed his knuckles. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

The crewmembers on shore hooted and hollered, and Gil was surprised that Odin’s usual barks for silence were absent – instead his mouth was corkscrewed in embarrassment, and a dark blush flushed his cheeks vibrantly.

Maggie leaned over with her mouth open, prepared to make a comment, and Odin snapped harshly “M-Mouth _shut_ , st-storyteller!”

Ava didn’t have the strength to form a thought around that response, all tired out from her previous panic – but she managed to catch the words of a few crew members.

“-didn’t think he’d find her, really-”

“-jumped into that water, I thought he was left for dead, too! What an evening-”

Gil was repositioning Ava in his arms for a long walk back to their home, when Maggie’s face appeared in Ava’s line of sight. “You know; Odin hates the water. But he jumped in to save _you_.”

Her cheeks flushed and Maggie smiled cattishly before ducking away. Ava knew she must’ve fallen asleep in Gil’s arms, exhausted, but the storyteller’s words seemed to follow her sleeping mind, Odin’s worried words creeping in on her dreams.

Ava knew peace, and she slept.

000

She awoke early the next morning. The light of the early grey morning filtered in as neutral grey lighting danced across her blanket from the nearby window. Listening, there hadn’t been any noise or anything to indicate she should awaken – but she was still tired. Why had she woken up?

Sitting up and pressing her hands to her bed, pain shot up her arm and she sobered. Looking down, her right arm had been bandaged tightly. Touching the coarse cotton, it was damp – Nevy must’ve smeared a salve across it.

Pulling the blanket off her feet, a nice little cradle and makeshift splint had been fashioned around her twisted foot. It felt better already, the phantom prickles easing as she attempted to stand. Little spikes of aches slithered up her foot as she hobbled, and she found she was wearing her sleeping gown. Nevy must’ve also changed her clothes.

Stepping downstairs, slowly, everyone was still asleep. The house was empty and silent, the wood creaking under her uncertain steps her only company.

Maybe she could sit on the front porch and watch the sunrise. She wasn’t in any shape to go swimming or climbing in any way, so nearing the front door and swinging it open, she froze.

Literal inches from knocking on the door was Odin, his fist still up in the air to make contact with the wood. They were both startled and both stepped back, but Ava put her weight on the wrong foot and had to clutch the door to keep her balance.

Odin had drawn back but stopped to watch her expression flicker, and his eyes wandered to her casted foot. “A-Are you f-feeling any b-better?”

Small talk, it seemed, was Odin’s comfort zone.

Ava had no problems with this.

“It hurt a lot earlier, but Gil mentioned he wanted to be a doctor. I guess he’s a lot better than he suspects,” she replied softly, experimentally picking her foot up and settling it back against the hardwood.

“I’m s-sure.” There was a note to Odin’s voice Ava couldn’t peg, and she looked back up to him. He blinked and swallowed hard, and she followed the movement of his throat before he blurted “Y-Yours,” and he thrust out her shoes she had left on the dingy.

He brought them back to her?

Reaching out, she took them from his hands gingerly. “Thank you…” Their fingers brushed. She tried not to think about it.

“Would you like to watch the sunrise with me?” Odin’s brows shot into his bangs and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I, uh, h-have work soon,” he muttered “but… th-thanks. M-Maybe some other t-time.”

Ava’s expression must’ve given her away, because moments after Odin appeared just as crestfallen. She set her shoes on the inside of the house, closing the door and sitting on the porch. Odin scuffed his foot on the wood, flecks of old paint gathering on the edges of his boots.

She was waiting for him to leave.

He wasn’t leaving.

She finally inhaled and turned, preparing to ask him if he was _going to leave_ , but he instead sat down next to her. “I c-can afford to b-be a little late,” he muttered, whisking off his hat and twisting it in his hands.

They sat in silence, watching the sun rise and scatter gem-like light across the sea. Ava wanted to talk, about anything really, but what should she say? ‘Hey, I’m a might-be-not-human too, how about that!’ She wasn’t about to humiliate herself.

Odin didn’t seem at all inclined to talk, either – the strong silent type? She didn’t mind, but her curiosity was oppressive to the rest of her thoughts. What should’ve been a peaceful moment with a friend was now unbearable.

“D-Do I r-really make you th-that nervous?” Odin asked softly as his deep voice would allow, and Ava went rigid. It was unnerving to know that ‘the tug’ – whatever it was, a sixth sense, a feverdream – worked both ways. She looked down to her lap, biting her lower lip.

“No, I just… I’m… overwhelmed?” she forced the words out, and they tumbled clumsily from her lips. Odin only nodded, turning back to the sea, and she squeezed handfuls of her dress again. “I am really thankful that you saved me, though. Don’t – Don’t think that I’m not,” she stopped talking, her words cutting off abruptly. She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to talk, but didn’t know what she could possible tell him that he didn’t _already_ seem to know.

Her face burned, and a chilly wind brushed up against her cheeks and scattered her hair about her shoulders. Pushing a few locks out of her face, she glanced back to Odin – who, at some point, had exchanged the sight of the sunrise to instead watch her fiery movements instead.

The question seemed to spill from her lips without any hesitation. “How did you find me out in the fog?”

“I h-heard you,” he replied again, soft. “I h-had been l-listening for you th-the moment I s-saw you on the black r-rocks, Ava.”

There was something intimate in how he said her name – warmth stirred in her chest and she held her hands together, tight.

“I h-have to g-get to work,” he stood up, dusting off his pants – and then added in a much more reverent tone over his shoulder “I h-hope to see you again s-soon.”

“…me too,” she heard herself reply, and she had half a mind to put her hands to her mouth but didn’t, opting to watch him walk away. She watched him till he vanished under the hill, and with that she decided to go back to bed.

When she awoke hours later, she wasn’t certain whether his visit had been a dream, until she saw her shoes by the front door.


	3. Becalmed

Until her foot healed properly, Ava was confined to the house under Nevy’s keen eye. Luckily, Gil had skill in the patch-up he gave her, so she was healing at a modest pace enough that Nevy stopped acting the role of the mother hen and let her walk around the house a little.

Soon enough, Gil had given her a crutch, and she was allowed to walk alongside him through town as they bought more supplies.

She couldn’t ignore the gazes, though – _that’s the one, the one who was cast adrift and returned_ – she could hear the rumors circulating like hot blood, suspicious and wary. Even in a small fishing town like this tongues were still set wagging at the tiniest oddity, and Ava lamented that she happened to _be_ that oddity.

Instead of leaving her outside, Gil brought Ava into one of the shops as he collected a pound of sugar and other various ingredients. She sat leaned against the wall near the window, fiddling with her crutch unhappily.

She wanted to go swimming again. She wanted to collect shells on the beach.

To be fair though, she thought she was lucky to have been saved, and that Nevy hadn’t decided she was worth too much trouble, tossing her back to Wrathia like a game of hot potato – when she thought of it like that, her foot didn’t seem to hurt nearly so badly.

Warmth flooded through the back of her mind. She whipped around, hopeful – sure enough, Odin was bringing in sacks of grain over one shoulder. He faltered when he saw her by the window, and set the bag down, his eyes trained on Ava’s face.

He neared her, steps quiet – the sounds of Gil’s and the shopkeeper’s talking seemed to go silent as they stared at one another.

“Hello,” she offered, but the words seemed too shy and lame – she followed them up with “so, you work here?”

“…on oc-occasion.” His eyes cast down to her foot again and he asked, once more, “h-how’s it h-healing?”

 She cracked a smile, albeit it was a little bitter. “Why’re you so focused on my foot? What about the slice on my arm, huh?”

“Th-The slice on y-your arm w-won’t stop you fr-from swimming,” he replied evenly, and Ava blinked, startled by that response.

“…ah.” She didn’t know how to respond to that – the thought of swimming left a dull ache in her heart that she desperately wished she could cast away.

Odin licked his lips anxiously and said aloud “D-Don’t w-worry, ah – I’m s-sure you c-can g-go swimming again soon…” He was wringing his hands together shakily, and Ava realized he was trying to comfort her in some small way. She hadn’t mean to sour his mood at all, so she mustered up her best smile as a response, beaming it his direction.

The effect was instantaneous. Odin’s hands and shoulders dropped, and his eyes went a little wide as a fierce blush bloomed across his cheeks, and he muttered “I need to get back to work” before he vanished like a shadow into one of the back rooms. His timing for fleeing was impeccable as Gil returned to her with the supplies Nevy wanted, and they walked back home.

“So,” Gil started to speak with a cheeky smile, looking to Ava.

“So…?” she replied incredulously – she didn’t like that expression.

“I saw you talking to Odin in the corner. Anything interesting?”

“He was just worried about how my foot’s been healing up,” she replied as evenly as she could, pushing the memories of strong arms and dark eyes aside “he did save me, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Gil continued with that smile. He was acting like he knew something, and Ava didn’t appreciate that he seemed to be dangling it in front of her. “He’s _very_ fond of you.”

“I guess we’re friends, by this point, what with the rescue and all.”

Gil didn’t reply to that, but he did roll his eyes. Her attempt to derail the topic he was going for didn’t go unnoticed, but he didn’t press it any further, much to Ava’s relief.

The conversation was forgotten as they came home and started dinner.

000

“I don’t think Gil is feeling well,” Nevy announced to Ava, who was fiddling with her splint irritably. Ava looked up from her seat at the table to where her foster mother was leaned in the doorway of the hall. “He’s been warm all morning…”

“Maybe some fresh air will do him some good,” Ava suggested “and some tea?”

Nevy made breakfast, but sure enough, when Gil awoke to go to work, there was a fuzziness to his movements and glaze across his eyes as he drank his tea. “I’ll be fine,” he waved off his mother’s worry, but his steps were too languid and wobbly as he left home, and Nevy watched him from the window, worried.

“That boy’ll work himself to death if we let him,” Nevy bit her lower lip, and Ava hobbled up to the window. By now, there was nearly no pain in her foot, and she kept asking Gil if she could take it off – he had been refusing with a laugh, but now that she had been thinking about it, he seemed awfully tired lately.

Although Ava was understandably slower, she helped Nevy straighten up Gil’s room, cleaning his blankets and beating out his mattress of dust, and they set to making him some soup.

There was a knock at the door, and Nevy muttered “I’ll get it” while Ava stirred the soup. It had seaweed and crab-meat in it – what kind of soup was this? Her foster mother seemed to have a hundred remedies from the ocean for anything. Ava was sure one day she’d make a tea with sand and shell that would regrow a limb.

“Oh – oh dear, is he okay?” she heard a low murmur in response “I’ll fetch him at once.”

Nevy reentered with a worried expression. “Gil has a fever, he collapsed on the boat today – the boys came home early to drop him off for us, since he’s such a hard worker. I’m going to go pick him up, watch the food for me, okay?” She gave instructions as to what to do, and Ava took care of the soup with increasing anxiety.

When they returned home, a few of the other fishermen had Gil sandwiched between them with each of his arms over their shoulders, and they pulled him into his room. His hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his eyes were half lidded – Ava felt fear twinge her chest painfully, and Nevy was quick to give him the serving of the soup she had made. One of the other fishermen went to the local doctor asking for a remedy, and the doctor explained the medicine should be done by sundown.

Ava did her best to help – Nevy changed his sweaty clothes and Ava washed them instantly after – when she needed cold, cold water, Ava hobbled down to the sea with a bucket and brought it back, and Nevy used it to cool cloths to put on Gil’s head – when Nevy was exhausted, Ava watched Gil for her, and when night descended his fever had yet to break.

He was breathing strangely, and his hands kept twisting handfuls of his blankets as he muttered under his breath. A few times he had thrashed around, and they had to hold him down, but that had subsided.

Nevy had tied her dreadlocks back so she could work easier, but now she was sitting beside Gil, running her hands over his nervously as he twitched in his sleep.

“Nevy?” she snapped up as Ava said aloud “I can go get the medicine from the doctor.”

“Oh Ava – no, I should go, it’s much too dark-”

“I can use the lantern,” Ava replied neutrally “and my foot’s almost all the way healed.”

Nevy opened her mouth to retort, but Gil murmured in his sleep again, throwing his head around his pillow, and she finally agreed. Ava lit the lamp and held it with her good arm – the arm with the slice on it was almost healed, too, but she didn’t want to take any risks – and she started her walk to town.

Her heart was beating furiously in her chest. She was excited and nervous all at once, her pulse drumming in her ears. She had never walked to town in the dark, and although by now she knew the path by heart, she was still double-checking with every step that she was headed the right direction.

The night wasn’t as dark as she suspected it would be. Shadows crept along over the beach, and her skin seemed to be an eerie color thanks to the light of the moon clashing with the dull light of the lamp at her hip, but it was more the silent atmosphere that chilled her.

The sea roared to her right, splashing against the sand, a low lullaby – it served to sooth her nerves a little as she saw the main town, the lamps and lanterns all lit, glowing a warm yellow.

The town seemed different at night. Most everyone was quiet at home, sleeping or preparing for bed – the local pub was thriving with light and noise though, as most fishermen went down there for a quick pint before returning home in a flustered, drunken state. Ava avoided that building, walking on the other sidewalk, before finally fetching the medicine from the doctor’s home.

She took it gratefully and paid – the medicine was in a paper bag, and was a powder. It was to be drunk once in the morning and before bed, and it was supposed to help break the fevers.

As Ava began to walk back, a little relief creeping in on her now that the hard part of her mission was through, the atmosphere soured. Some of the younger boys from the pub had wandered out, arm in arm, singing off key to each other, and they spotted her.

Soon enough they were flanking her, and she swallowed hard, clutching the bag and the lamp harder.

“Aren’t you the selkie girl?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied hotly “leave me alone.” With that she spun back around in the hopes of hobbling off with no further trouble, but one of the other boys grabbed her by her hair.

“You’re bein’ daft, she’s got no dark hair! Look!” She yanked her hair out of his clumsy grip, and another of the three boys said “But look at her eyes! They’re dark, see?”

“That’s just an old tale – she’s just a funny city girl, is all!”

“Hey city selkie,” one of them cooed, his words slurred “you learn anything fun growin’ up in that city? Somethin’ you could teach us, eh?”

Ava decided she’d had enough and tried to break into a run, but it was difficult with her splint – she heard one hoot “There she goes! Hobblin’ away like a cripple!” and loud laughter, along with the footsteps of the boys chasing her drunkenly. She didn’t want to see what else they’d yank or pull if they got close to her again, but her cast betrayed her and she tripped, falling onto the cobblestone path.

Her lantern shattered upon impact, the light snuffing out instantly, but she managed to keep the bag of medicine intact – one street lantern hung nearby, but the light was dim. Her knees were skinned from the fall, and she could hear the boys approaching.

She tried to scramble backwards, maybe to hide in the dark as she saw the faces of the boys, but someone stepped up behind her and she froze.

So did the boys – their expressions melted from excitement and disoriented mirth to fear, but Ava felt nothing but reassurance and relief as she heard “Wh-What the h- _hell_ are you doing?”

The boys scattered, shoving each other as they ran away. Odin stepped out of the shadows in front of Ava, watching the boys run and ensuring they were leaving with taut shoulders and tight fists, before turning back to her. His own frown bent into an easy smile as he leaned down, gesturing one hand out with flourish, saying aloud softly “B-Brave little Ava, always sn-sneaking off. H-How about we get you h-home?”

Ava looked from his outstretched hand back to his face, where his smile remained steady – she liked the sight of it, and smiled back, taking his hand with her bad arm and hoisting herself up. She was glad that he seemed relax enough to tease her, as usually, he was brooding and taciturn, or awkward as she looked.

“Y-You’ll have to f-forgive them – it w-was their f-first time drinking, I d-don’t think they kn-know just h-how stupid th-they were acting. I’ll t-talk to our boss about it, though.”

Ava dusted off her skirt, and frowned at her bloodied knees. “Why am I always getting in trouble around you?”

“I on-only come when you’re in trouble,” he returned sweetly, and he offered an arm. “L-Let me escort y-you home.”

Ava took it, her fingers curling around his bicep gently. “My lamp-”

Odin’s own voice was strangely shaky as he replied “I kn-know the p-path in the d-dark, just – st-stay close to me.” They walked close together, and as they stepped away from town and into the dark, Ava could see sharp shadows and shapes from the light of the moon. Still, she stayed close, nervous about tripping and losing the medicine somehow – but the walk went without incident.

As they approached the front porch, Ava released her grip of Odin’s arm and was about to thank him, before the front door burst open with a worried Nevy.

“Oh- Ava, I was so worried, I was about to come get you-”

“I had a bad run in with the boys in town, but Odin rescued me. I also got the medicine,” she held the bag up but Nevy echoed “Odin?”

He walked out of the shadows and dipped his head respectfully. Nevy smiled wide and it seemed like she was about to say something, before hearing Gil make a noise in his bedroom – she snatched the medicine from Ava and they both started into the house in a rush. Those few inches on Ava’s splint seemed to be her constant downfall, as she tried to rush up the stairs and tripped, _again_.

Before her face hit hardwood, Odin’s hand curled around her shoulders and stopped her mid-fall. “Y-You okay?”

“I need to stop rushing into things,” she groaned, putting a hand to her forehead, and he laughed “It s-seems to be y-your fashion.”

He helped her inside, and Nevy had already given some of the medicine to Gil. However, she also seemed inclined to finally let Ava have some of the soup, and to give a serving to Odin as well.

“Nevy,” Ava said at the table as she brought out some gauze for Ava’s knees “I broke the lamp while I was being chased, I’m sorry-”

“ _Chased_?” she repeated, eyes sharp.

“S-Some of the y-younger boys g-got a few d-drinks at the bar,” Odin informed neutrally, and Nevy took several deep breaths before serving them a bowl of soup with a series of furious mutters. She left the room in a huff saying she had to watch Gil, but it seemed obvious she was enraged with how the boys in town treated Ava, and Ava was flattered at her concern. Rage directed towards her lack of safety was better than rage directed towards her for no reason at all.

Odin was about to start eating his serving when he saw Ava trying to apply the gauze to her knees, and he sat up asking “Ah- C-Can I help?”

“I can’t seem to angle it right,” she replied, embarrassed, and Odin pulled up his chair next to her and pulled her legs up across his lap. She squeaked but he didn’t seem to notice, or he did a good job of acting like it, as he took the gauze and began patching up her knees – Ava wasn’t sure if her face was hot from humiliation or a blush, but it didn’t seem to matter. He wrapped them up tight, and patted her knees gingerly once he was done.

“Th-There,” he said aloud with satisfaction, but when he looked up to Ava his own face mimicked her in the intensity of the color it turned – he seemed to _just_ realize that he threw Ava’s legs up onto his lap and he slid them off with a flurry of apologies, almost leaping out of his seat, before he explained “I- uh – d-do that w-with my s-sisters a lot, I w-wasn’t thinking – uh-”

Ava cut him off with “So you have sisters?” The attempt to push his embarrassment to the side worked, as he wound down a little, settling back into his seat.

“Y-Yeah, th-three. Ag-Again, I w-wasn’t thinking-”

Ava laughed. Usually he was self-assured and silent, but one embarrassment got him up in a mess – she said aloud “Try the soup. Nevy and I spent a lot of time on it.”

He looked to the bowl and tried some as Ava inched around to try it herself – it wasn’t bad at all. She looked up, but Odin just seemed to be busy eating without trying the taste, and she didn’t blame him. She had no idea of knowing how long his day had been, so they ate together in mutual silence.

When they were both done, Odin said aloud softly “It w-was very g-good.”

“Thank you for rescuing me – again,” she added with a frown. He snickered at her expression and she whapped him with his spoon, and he mockingly said “Ow” even though the hit was weak, and they laughed lightly.

She set their dishes in the sink. “It’s getting late,” she noted, looking out the window.

“I sh-should be g-going,” he noted aloud, standing – Ava walked him to the front porch and they bid each other a polite goodnight, and Ava watched him until his form vanished in the dark.

She went back inside, and found Nevy had fallen asleep in Gil’s room. Following in her footsteps, Ava went up to her own room and slept, with memories of walking in the dark beside Odin still fresh in her mind.

000

Gil’s fever broke overnight, but they still kept him from work for a few days to recover. In that time, he finally freed Ava’s foot from the splint, and she could run and prance wherever she pleased – she wanted to go swimming again, but since Gil was down for the count, she had to pick up the pace for him in doing chores.

That wasn’t so terrible. Ava had gained a lot of muscle from swimming so often, and the fresh air was doing wonders for her stamina, so she was a lot more useful than Nevy had originally assumed. Ava had helped with dusting, and sweeping the sand out the door, and eventually she was throwing the newly washed blankets into the closet when Nevy cleared her throat.

“Ava? There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Ava had stopped where she was standing on the stool, her arms still full of quilts, awaiting Nevy’s question.

“…Awhile back, when you had hurt your ankle,” Nevy was scouring an iron pot, over the sink, not looking at her “Gil brought you home, and I changed you out of your clothes into a nightgown.”

“Yes,” Ava confirmed with a slow tilt of her head “what about it?”

“You usually wear dresses with sleeves. I didn’t know…”

Ava’s blood ran cold as she put a hand to her upper arm, squeezing the quilts tight to her. “Oh, its – its fine now, I’m not-”

“Did Wrathia do that to you?”

Carefully concealed was Ava best kept secret – scars across her upper arms, criss-crossed from Wrathia’s abrasive scolding. Ava only nodded slowly, trying not to feel too wretched about it. She hadn’t been thinking about them often lately, as they were finally healing and fading.

“…She shouldn’t have done that to you,” Nevy said aloud sadly, her movements slowed to near stillness.

“I’m alright. The worst parts have already healed up,” she replied, hoisting the blankets up and stuffing them into the upper cabinet, shutting it “and for as long as I’m here I’m out of reach of her riding crop.”

“She used a riding crop?” Nevy asked, bewildered, and Ava nodded, lowering herself off the stool. “She’s such an intense woman – I wish I was more surprised, but it truly seems her fashion to act that way. I think I acted a similar fashion when I was younger,” Nevy put a hand to her cheek “but I’m much too settled for antics like those anymore.”

Ava could believe it – sometimes Nevy was sharper than the usual motherly fashion, and she could wind anyone around her finger so fast it would make even Maggie’s head spin. Still, she never lifted her hand against Ava or Gil, and in her opinion a little flirting for better prices at the market was far better than a riding crop on her shoulders.

“Is there anything else you need me to do?”

Nevy nodded. “I’d like some mussels, if you could collect some by the black rocks for me. They’ll make for a fine little snack so Gil can heal up – he always mends faster on seafood,” she winked, and Ava smiled broadly. Finally, she had an excuse to go swimming again, or to at least be near the sea.

A little woven basket was put in Ava’s care, and she wore her tattered dress and walked barefoot to the black rocks, where the seafoam was almost violent in its splashing, where heaps of seaweed and kelp gathered eagerly.

Ava sorted through it with the skill of a seasoned seaside girl, as though she had lived there all her life – she rustled aside the handfuls seaweed and plucked the mussels hidden underneath, and tossed them into the basket.

After she had collected a suitable amount, Ava had sat down on one of the rocks and let the sea-spray dampen her knees and face, and she watched the faraway sandbar where only a few seals sat. One bellied into the water, diving in smoothly, and she smiled dreamily.

There was a shuffling sound next to her, and she turned, startled – there, two girls with dark hair and equally dark eyes also collecting mussels in their skirts were directly to her left. They looked to her, startled, and one of them blurted “He wasn’t kidding!” all the while tugging and pulling at what appeared to be her identical sister.

Ava sat up a little straighter. The tug in the back of her mind whispered, and as it had done for Odin, she knew their names. “Crow and Raven – those’re your names, right?”

The two girls looked to each other, astonished, and then back to Ava. “Yes,” the other one replied, guarded, “and you’re Ava, correct?”

Ava nodded, but said nothing else. These must’ve been Odin’s aforementioned sisters, though this was her first time seeing them – according to local gossip they were a solitary family and usually kept to themselves, more often than not marrying off to people out of town and never returning. The Arrows secrets seemed to guard themselves, an air of mystery about them, but these two girls seemed anything _but_ stoic and mysterious. In fact, they were younger than Ava.

They were also significantly louder.

“See, she’s got the dark eyes too! And she knows our names!”

“She could’ve just heard it from local gossip,” the one the tug informed Ava to be Crow quipped back to Raven, and she watched their antics with an air of awe swathing around her ears. “She doesn’t have the dark hair!”

“Yeah and neither does Magpie, she’s got white streaks! So what if she doesn’t have black hair,” Raven hopped out of her sister’s reach and into Ava’s perimeter, sliding into a sitting position next to her “hello! You’re new in town, right? You know my brother!”

“ _Our_ brother,” Crow grumbled, giving in and sitting next to her sister.

Ava swallowed, “Yes, I do – why do you ask?”

“It’ll just make talking to you a lot easier,” Raven laughed aloud “we don’t usually participate in the local gossip – as in, few people talk to us – and Olai’s gossip is all lies and Odin doesn’t even gossip at all! What’s the latest scoop in town?” Both the girl’s eyes gleamed brightly, and Ava sputtered.

“I – uh? Well, Gil recently got the fevers and fainted on his boat, right into Gev’s arms. I’ve heard the fishermen are all up in a tizzy about how hard Gev blushed about it.”

The girls looked to each other and burst into peals of giggles. Ava decided she liked them well enough, as she relayed what little she knew of the recent events in town from Maggie or Nevy, and she realized she had been out far too long before she stood.

“I’m sorry, it’s been fun talking, but I have to get back – these mussels won’t cook themselves,” she gestured to the basket she was lifting.

Crow replied politely “We appreciate you talking to us – perhaps we can talk again sometime?”

“I think I’d like that,” Ava smiled brightly, and started to move, before Raven objected.

“WAIT WAIT WAIT – Ava! I have a question for you!” Ava blinked – what was it with people and their questions today? She waited for Raven to gather her words, before she asked “What do you think of Odin?”

Ava thought to his small talk back when she was purchasing eggs, and his deep anger at Gev’s actions which resulted in the slash on her arm – she thought of when he had swum to her boat, and when he had lifted her carefully, carrying her to Gil – she thought when they watched the sunrise together, and of when he walked her home after being chased by the drunken town boys.

She thought of his smile, and the awkward, charming way he would twist things in his hands when he was anxious. She thought of him, and her cheeks burned.

“He’s nice,” she replied dully, but Raven laughed a little harder than what was polite, and gestured to Ava. The twins looked to each other, and it seemed they shared the thought because they both laughed, and Ava snapped “What!”

“Nothing, nothing – we’re just – we’re _real glad_ you think he’s _nice_ ,” Crow answered, as Raven was still giggling, and they both bid farewell, fleeing back along the other side of the black rocks.

Ava huffed to herself and gathered her basket, cheeks burning in embarrassment as she walked back to her house. She had a sneaking suspicion they were making fun of her flusters, but it wasn’t exactly something she could stop. Something about Odin Arrow caused her heart to flutter and her lungs to tighten, and apparently it was obvious enough on her face that the girls could point it out and laugh at it.

She came back home and gave the basket to Nevy, before she went up to her room and watched the sea from her window with frustration coiling in her ribs. However, Nevy seemed to notice her anger and asked another favor of her in hopes of distracting her.

“Ava? There’s going to be another storm soon, can you possibly patch up the roof?”

Ava knit her brows at that request. “I’m not sure how… Like, with a hammer and nail?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve asked someone to help you on the roof – just dress for the heat, it gets hot up there,” Nevy warned, and so Ava dressed in one of her smaller dresses, her knees still patched and her feet bare as she climbed the ladder up to the roof.

There, with a set of planks, nails, and a hammer, was Odin. He had his sleeves rolled up and the first few buttons of his shirt undone, and Ava was tempted to just climb down the ladder and say no deal, but Odin already knew she was there. She cursed her ocean-blood as he turned to her and smiled a little lopsided.

“H-Hello. C-Come to help on th-the roof?”

Ava nodded cautiously, climbing up – she didn’t want to fall, as this was a very tall house, and she inched closer to where he was hammering a plank into place. Now that she thought about it, she wished she had brought a hairtie, as the wind was picking up and kept blowing her hair into her face – she had to angle herself just right on the other side of Odin.

“How can I help?”

“J-Just hand m-me nails when I ask – I’m almost d-done up here.” She held the tin of nails in her lap, and when he asked for one she handed it to him, mostly staring out at the sea. “M-Miss Nervine invited me over f-for d-dinner tonight,” he said aloud, and Ava swallowed hard.

“Is that so? Payment for the roof, then?”

He looked up at her with a strange mirth in his eyes and a quirk to his mouth. “M-Maybe.”

“Everyone seems set on teasing me today,” she frowned, dropping another nail into his hand, trying to ignore the hotness set to her cheeks. Luckily, she could blame it on the heat gathering on the roof – even Odin was sweating.

“N-Nevy giving you a hard t-time?”

“No, your sisters.”

Odin sputtered and dropped the nail he was holding – he tried to grab it, but it rolled off the roof as he exclaimed “M-M-My s-sisters ha-have been t-talking to you? Wh-What, uhm,” he tried to play off his earlier fumble by rubbing the back of his neck easily, but it just came off as an awkward, forced gesture. “Wh-What about?”

It was fascinating seeing Odin act like anything but the calm, lone wolf thing he had going on. Ava blinked once and replied “Recent gossip, mostly. They don’t walk to the locals much, but they seem set on the idea that the locals want to talk to _me_ any more than them. I spoke to them a little about what Maggie and Nevy talk to me about, but that isn’t much, unfortunately.”

“Ah…” he seemed to relax and she gave him another nail to replace the last, and he continued patching the roof.

Ava felt this was a very good time to add “Oh, and about you.” He flailed a little again, jerking before freezing as he repeated “Ab-About – About m-me?”

“Yes.”

“Wh-What _about_ m-me?”

Ava forced herself to stare out towards the sea. The waves were a gentle grey, and she could see the building storm on the horizon, churning dangerously in the distance. “About what _I_ think _of you_.”

Odin stopped nailing the roof. The abrupt stop of the steady noise was unnerving, and Ava bunched her hands into her skirt. The wind picked up again, blowing her hair back, and Odin asked softly “And? Wh-What do you th-think of me?”

Ava dragged her gaze from the sea to Odin, settling her eyes on his – she smiled softly in turn, pushing her hair back with one hand, and she replied as honestly as she could “I think… I am very fond of you. And I would like to know you better.”

Odin’s cheeks turned a darker shade and he dipped his head down, silently – he put his hand out, gesturing for another nail, and she dropped it into his hand. His shoulders were tense and his mouth was twisted as he managed to nod in reply. Ava wasn’t sure what to make of that – was he agreeing with her, that he felt similarly, or was he just accepting what she had said?

“It is a little strange to only really socialize with you when there’s a situation,” she continued.

She was going to continue more, but he interrupted with “Wh-When you’re in tr-trouble is r-really the only t-time I have the n-nerve to approach you.”

“The nerve to approach me? What about me could possibly intimidate you?” she asked, confused, and Odin smiled back, his brows upturned.

“Oh Ava. Y-You are s-so much st-stronger than you r-realize.” She cocked her head and he asked “N-Nail.”

“I’m not used to asking questions,” Ava pressed a little, scooting closer and giving him one of the last nails “but I’m getting tired of being confused.”

“Th-Then ask,” he nailed down the last board.

“Will I get an answer?”

“D-Depends on the qu-question.”

“You _do_ like teasing me,” she pouted a little and he laughed. “Will you stay for dinner?”

The clouds in the distance rumbled, and Odin wiped the sweat from his brow.

“I th-think I sh-shall.”

000

Nevy had made a large dinner in anticipation of Odin staying, and it seemed right that he did – not long after they went inside, the clouds seemed to leap across the sky, and the storm begun, rattling the windows. Had he stayed a minute longer to go home, he might’ve been drenched.

Nevy served both Ava and Odin, and then claimed she was going to have dinner with Gil in his room, to see how he was fairing – so that left Odin and Ava alone with their food, and that seemed to be an ample opportunity to assault Odin with her many questions, but she didn’t. She had been exhausted from working with Nevy for the past few days, so she ate silently and Odin did the same.

It seemed to be the better choice that they didn’t talk, because soon enough Nevy kept popping her head out asking Ava for quick favors.

“Ava, Gil is getting hot again – do we still have any of the medicine?” Ava nodded with a mouthful of food and left to the bathroom cabinet to fetch it, bringing it back with a cup of cold water from tap. Just before she could sit down again, Nevy asked her to fetch the blankets they had recently washed, just in case the fevers returned with a vengeance – this continued until Ava’s food was cold and Odin had been watching her go back and forth with surprise.

“Y-You’re a hard worker,” he noted aloud, and Ava smiled back. She was tired, but it felt good to be active – better than being in the city, anyway, with Wrathia and her words and her riding crop. She ate the rest of her food cold and took their dishes to the sink to wash, and Odin insisted on helping her.

“I c-can at l-least dry them,” he insisted, and Ava rolled her eyes along with her sleeves, pulling them up past her upper arms so they wouldn’t be soaked. As they washed, Ava standing on a stool and Odin on his flats, he felt inclined to start the conversation.

“I gr-grew up here. I’m used t-to st-storms this b-bad, but they always s-seem worse th-than the last ones,” he noted, opening the nearby curtain in front of the sink, watching the lightening flash.

“I heard you don’t like water that much.” Ava thought it was very strange, but didn’t press it – instead, she asked “Is that why you stayed?”

“P-Partly.”

“What’s the other reason?” she asked, scrubbing a crusty part off a plate. He didn’t answer, so she looked up, prepared to ask again, only to find him staring directly at her. Her face grew hot again and she replied “oh.” He cleared his throat and looked back to the dishes he was drying, stacking them by the sink.

He turned to speak to her again, but his eyes caught on the few inches he could see of her upper arms, and he choked on his words a little. “A-Ava? What-?”

She followed his gaze, and realized some of the scarring on her arms was revealed. She rolled down her sleeves by a few inches and brushed it off with “Don’t worry about it.”

“Wh-What h-happened-?”

“Nothing,” she brushed it off again with her curt reply, washing a plate harder than necessary. The tug pulled, hard, and she couldn’t fight it – she glanced up to Odin and his entire expression was consumed with worry, enough that even she faltered under his gaze. “Its healed up, so, it doesn’t matter anymore,” she insisted. “Help me put the dishes away.”

They did so silently – once they were done, Ava decided a good way to derail his pending questions was to show him her shell collection in her room. When she opened up the chest, he blinked in surprise at the variety and the color of the shells inside. One shell was a creamy violet on the outside and shone glassy rainbow on the inside. He marveled at it for a few minutes until Ava placed it in his hand and curled his fingers around it.

“Keep it. There are other shells,” she said with another smile, and Odin admired the gift. He sat on her bed and angled it in his hands, enchanted – she liked watching him inspect it, and he turned that wondered gaze to her.

“Th-Thank you.”

She smiled.

“But st-still... wh-what h-happened to your arms?”

Her smile dropped. It seemed he didn’t lose focus of conversations as easily as Gil or Nevy. She sat at the head of her bed and pulled her legs up to her chin, hugging them against her. Her knees must’ve been scabbed over by this point, but she hadn’t taken the bandages off – her arm might’ve been healed, but she hadn’t taken that off, either.

“Wh-Why are you s-so anxious ab-about letting people s-see that you’re hurt?” he asked softly, and the questioned seemed to drill into the marrow of her bones, and she scowled.

“Why do you expect answers when you never want to give them?” she asked in response, and he seemed equally jarred. It seemed to be, though they spoke little, they knew each other too well.

They sat in surprised silence, inspecting the other, before Odin, surprisingly, answered first.

“B-Because p-people r-rarely b-believe the tr-truth I give. B-Because my tr-truth is secrets and f-family oddities – th- _that_ is wh-why I give an-answers less th-than I take them.” He had been looking at his knees through that confession, before he asked her “A-And what about you?” He brought his gaze back up to her, and she found she was used to his dark eyes and his strangely pale skin.

Ava sucked a breath in between her teeth. “I don’t like letting people see when I’m hurt because more often than not my pain is used for the benefit of others and for more abuse for me. There, happy?”

“N-No.” He leaned forward, a little closer towards her “wh-what happened to your arms?”

“Why don’t you like the water?” she returned. Ava was going to get answer for answer, and Odin scowled at her – he didn’t like this game, but it was the only one Ava was giving him to play.

“I d-don’t like th-the water because my m-mom was more selkie than me.” He was looking at the shell Ava had given him – thunder clapped and lightening flashed from her window. “She l-liked swimming m-more than the r-rest of us, and one ev-evening, she w-went out to sw-swim with the s-seals and – I w-was with her – she k-kept swimming. She s-swam away, and I n-nearly drowned, and n-none of us h-have seen her since. Th-There – are y- _you_ happy?”

“No.” She reached out and touched his shoulder, and he went stiff. “I’m sorry.” Ava had been tempted to go swimming and continue swimming many times, but she could always brush off the feeling. To think that someone was so in tune with the sea that they would happily swim away and drown within’ it… It hurt to imagine, much less live through.

“Wh-What about y-your arms?”

“Ah,” she withdrew her hand “the mystery of the evening,” she joked a little, but he didn’t reply. He awaited silently for a response, and she tried to steady herself with a few more breaths. “My godmother doesn’t like me very much. She would hit me with a riding crop when I did something wrong, and in her eyes, everything about me is wrong. That meant a lot… _interaction_ … with her, and… her unjustified anger.”

Odin glared – not at Ava but through her, at the actions of Wrathia.

“D-Do they st-still hurt?”

“Sometimes,” she replied quietly, looking back out the window – she wished it would stop raining. She could use some quiet right now “I try not to think about it.”

Lightening stopped flashing. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip. “I don’t… I don’t know how I am what I am… I don’t have stories about my lineage,” she continued speaking, the words falling out, one after the other “I don’t know anything – but in spite of that, I think I’m glad I’m like this. That I’m different like this.”

“Why?” Odin asked, astonished.

“Because I got to make friends with you,” she replied, once again mustering as brave a smile as she could – it was a little forced, and a little crooked, but a smile all the same, and it was a smile for Odin.

His eyes widened as though he had been struck, and he didn’t reply for a long moment – he just stared at her, blinking owlishly.

“Wh… What?” Ava asked, surprised at his reaction, and he simply shook his head.

“Y-You’re a m-marvel, Ava.” Her cheeks reddened at his compliment, and she couldn’t gather the courage to reply, so she only looked back out towards the window. “L-Looks like the st-storm is letting up,” he noticed, peeking open the curtain with his hand “th-thanks to you.”

“What? What do you mean by that?”

“W-Well, last t-time there was a big storm – when w-we were in the b-boat,” he recalled “it w-was th-thrashing the water, b-but it stopped the m-moment you fell out of th-the boat. My g-guess is something s-similar happened just now.”

“That’s impossible,” she retorted “no one can control the weather, much less _myself_.”

“Y-You’re not c-controlling anything. Th-The sea just l-likes you, is all,” he swallowed hard “m-much like other p-people I know.”

When Ava could not come up with a swift and appropriate response, only ducking her chin with a fluster, Odin announced he should be getting home before his siblings would be worried. Before he left, however, he gestured for Ava’s hand – and on the front step of her home, he kissed her knuckles gingerly.

“Th-Thank you for a fine evening,” he said aloud, words steadier than usual, as though he rehearsed it, and Ava nodded again, withdrawing her hand.

As he left into the damp darkness, Ava decided it was getting far too hard to conceal her emotions, and Nevy’s wide grin at the front window was evidence of that.

As Ava went to bed, patting her cheeks to alleviate the fluster, she dreamt of the sea.


	4. Be Raged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know I was gonna let this fic sit, because it had been literal years since I had first started writing it, but I got some really wonderful comments on it as of late! I've been worried about bridging my old writing style with my newer, simplified writing, but I decided to put in some extra effort to try and smooth them out.
> 
> Thanks to astrastyr and Sincerely_unidentified for the fuel to my fire!! 
> 
> Warning for a bit of familial violence, but it won't get any worse than this, I don't plan on having domestic abuse be a regular trope in this fic (it is, after all, supposed to be 90% soulmate-ish fluff. We'll get there eventually lads)
> 
> thanks for your patience and I hope y'all enjoy the new chapter.

Life got a little easier. Though the constant gossip never seemed to ebb, Ava found her interactions with Odin to be pleasing rather than jarring, and whatever sixth sense she’d adopted felt natural as breathing the more days passed.

Wrathia never sent any letters. 

Nevy didn’t talk about her, either, and Ava highly suspected she’d been dumped here for good, and that brought an interesting thought to mind.

“I should get a job,” she said aloud one afternoon, her feet splishing and splashing in the water as she dug for shells, “I think it’ll help. I can pay Nevy for room and board, and save up some funds…” She dipped her little hands into the cool water, lifting a tiny spiral shell a moment after, “...and that way, if Wrathia wants me back, I can run away before she can get to me!”

The thought was amazingly appealing. The idea that she had control over her future to the point that she could come and go as she pleased… maybe she’d even get a boat, and live on the ocean. She scrunched her nose, but then Odin would never ever visit, and that thought was worse than the idea that Wrathia might fetch her at some point.

She glanced up, “What do you think?”

A pair of watery dark eyes blinked from the sandbar as the seal she was talking to flopped on its back and patted its broad tummy with its flippers. She reddened. She hadn’t intended on talking like that to an animal, she forgot…

Shyly, she gathered her various shells in her skirts and made her way back towards Nevy’s home. There was a bellied thumping noise behind her and she turned to see the seal was following her. “Uhm- no thank you, I mean- thank you for listening,” her ears turned red at its innocent little head-tilt. “I-I need to go home. It’s a long ways away, I- uhm- goodbye,” she dipped her head and broke into a little jog.

Pausing partly up the hill, she could spot the seal still watching her from the beach, tilting back and forth, before flopping back into the water. She thought she was used to her own strangeness, but having a large wild animal very capable of biting her be so interested and casual was another knock in her chest that blew the wind out of her.

She entered Nevy’s home and closed the door with her foot, about to announce her presence, but paused at the odd silence and quiet mutterings. She tiptoed into the living room, and found Gil and Nevy sitting across from each other, their expressions grim.

“I don’t know,” Gil traced his lower lip with his thumb thoughtfully, his eyes cast down, “...I just don’t like the _feel_ of him on our boat.”

“I get it, but you need extra hands, especially if you or one of the other boys falls sick,” Nevy reached out and patted his free hand with a soft sigh, “It’s only for a little while. Olai never works more than a month or two anyway.”

“A month is a long time to have him on board.”

Nevy pursed her lips, “It is. Please, just try to put up with him… I’m sure he’ll find a girl and move off like all the other Arrows before him.”

Olai? Olai… Odin’s older brother, she had managed to put that together from bits of conversations with Crow and Raven. She ventured out to her sixth sense, tugging on it for more information, and was given none. 

She couldn’t feel a single thing about Olai. 

Nevy turned. “Oh- Ava- I’m sorry, I didn’t see you standing there. Was today’s swim nice?”

“It was fine. What were you talking about,” she tilted her head in a way that Gil would describe as being seal-like, and Nevy cringed.

“There’s just a new worker on Gil’s boat who’s… got a reputation.”

“What kind of reputation?”

“...a _Wrathia_ kind of reputation.” 

The implication that there was anyone remotely as bad as Wrathia around her little seaside paradise made Ava’s throat tighten like a cold vice was coiled in her mouth. Gil must’ve seen how her entire body tensed taut as a bowstring and added “N-not _that_ bad, maybe, but, he’s very, er… loud. And confrontational, and physical about his confrontations-”

“And Odin lives with him?” Her voice was so cool and detached, Gil blinked anxiously. 

“Ah… yes. Yes, the Arrow family all lives together. Olai was out of town for a while, came back here and there for supplies - I hear he likes the city but has a gambling problem, so…” he shrugged. 

Ava bit her lower lip and just nodded, gliding back up the stairs to her room. Usually she’d be a bit more careful with her seashells, but today she just dumped them out on her bedside table and slid to her window, leaning her chin on the sill. 

Worry gnawed at her stomach, and she scolded herself for it. That was Odin’s family, he’d likely know how to deal with his own brother - but that’s what everyone thought about her and Wrathia. Was she reading too much into this, simply scared of shadows?

She soothed herself with the thought that if something was really wrong, Odin would talk to her about it, or give some indication. They were _friends_ , they could talk to each other. He _would_ talk to her, she decided, and no matter how forced her resolution was, it gave her the strength to change back into working clothes and get to cleaning the laundry.

That night at dinner, she ran her idea past Nevy.

“A job?” She frowned, “Are you sure, Ava? You know I won’t throw you out or anything, right? Did someone in town tease you-”

“No no,” flattered at Nevy’s response, her cheeks pinked a little. “I just want to have the experience… I think I’d be good at fishing, but I don’t even know where to start at selling them… I heard that Tenebrose’s mart has a position open. Maggie said the owner was nice.” What she _actually_ said was that the man was a massive pushover and would give Ava the job if she talked louder than a whisper.

Nevy still wasn’t convinced, and frowned deeply, her brows furrowing. “I still don’t know… you’re very small, Ava. Sometimes I’m worried a strong wind could blow you away.”

Her cheeks went hot. “I’ll only work in the mornings, then? So I’ll be home before evening, and help you here. _Please_?” She clasped her hands together and held them at her chest, blinking those clear eyes pleadingly. 

Gill pressed his lips together and his brows rose clear up as he passed Nevy a _look_. She sighed, her form deflating as her square shoulders collapsed, clearly defeated, “As you wish, Ava. But only mornings! And not all the time, or those harbor boys will take advantage of you.”

Her son scoffed, “Oh mom, it's just a cashier’s job. She’ll sit up at the front and take people’s payment, that’s all,” Gil shoved another spoonful of soup into his mouth, his words muffled from food, “It’ll do Tuls good to sleep in. He always looks so tired!”

Ava could agree to that. The next day she talked to Tuls about the job, and the towering man looked as withered as a dead plant, his red hair flat against his head and with heavy bags hanging under his eyes. 

“Just mornings?” he asked slowly in his whispering voice, and Ava nodded, clutching her hands together tightly. “You don’t have much experience…”

“Oh shut up you big log,” Maggie smacked his shoulder and the man let out another raspy sigh, rolling his eyes as Maggie continued “It’ll give you a chance to sleep in, and it's not like a lot of people come in for vegetables at six in the morning. Get some rest and pay the cute girl to keep customers happy while you, I don’t know, drink some paint.”

Tuls blinked slowly, and then refocused on Ava’s eyes, the wrinkles around his mouth accentuating his small frown. “...you are… not related to the Arrows, though…?”

She blinked, sent for a loop. Ava thought by this point that everyone knew about her. Apparently Tuls was such a hermit that he didn’t even know about the gossip that plagued Ava to the point of near self-isolation. “...uhm, yes, my last name is Ire…”

“...strange…” he rolled his broad shoulders, the straps to his overalls straining, then, “...you can work here… on the _weekends_ ,” he stated, pointing a finger up, “when I am sleeping in.”

Disappointment showed on her features as she ventured out “Ah… just the weekends?”

“My store… isn’t that popular. It’s all I can afford,” Ava was comforted that he sounded equally apologetic. “...I’ll get you an apron and show you the ropes…”

Ava liked Tuls’ shop. She suspected the man was more of an artisan than he’d ever let the little town know, at least by how all the terracotta flower pots around the store had been painted with exquisite images. Most of them weren’t even of the sea, but of deep forests, or a sunrise over a mountain, or of simply pleasing geometric patterns wrapped in blooms. The walls were all painted and carved as well, depicting fresh vegetables and fruits, the glossy paint bringing the illustrations to life along the wood.

She admired them, and the glossy oak counter and the clear window just right of it, showing the cobblestone street just past the closed doors. 

His store was simple enough. He didn’t often sell fruits as they spoiled too quickly, but he did sell his vegetables. They were stacked in different barrels or along the shelves, and the spices and preserves that accompanied them were in little jars along the wall behind the counter. Apparently they were worth more than the vegetables themselves, so Ava was to fetch them per a customer’s request, and luckily, all the bottles were labeled. 

She was also supposed to wear a little green apron with notes and the like in it to show she worked there. Maggie said it clashed with her hair, but couldn’t say anything worse than that with how gleefully Ava was smiling.

The first morning of work, she had gotten up extra early in anticipation of being too sleepy and moving at a slower pace, but instead she was jittery with anxiety. The entire town was a honey-rose color with the distant sun just barely peeking over the sea, the shadows all long and grey, and the dreamlike quality made Ava feel dizzy. She was alone on the streets, trotting along the sidewalk, her shoes clicking along the empty silence.

There were no clouds, a clear sky multicolored from the rising sun. It was so quiet, and she munched on a bit of bread to try and easy her twisting stomach, but her ears rang. She felt… _off_. Was it because she was up so early?

Tuls was awake to let her into the store, and would be awake that morning for tips and help, but only for the first weekend. After that, Ava would be on her own. 

She donned her apron, flitted behind the counter, and leaned her arms along it while resting her cheek on its surface. No one was up, and she was content to watch the colors of the town change as time inched along. No wonder Tuls would rather be asleep - if customers only came in a blue moon this early, it would just be easier to open up later.

She picked at a stray string on her apron. Maggie said she’d try to stop in later, and so had Gil… that was something to look forward to. Why was she so anxious? She looked over the vegetables and the spices, attempting to memorize them, but that didn’t make the churning in her gut ease even a little. Ava thumbed at a little vial of salt and sighed, plopping it back up on the shelf.

The door swung open, ringing the tiny bell hanging just above the door frame, and she perked up. Her first customer! Tuls was in the back sorting out his new shipment of spices, so she slipped behind the counter and sat on the worn stool, only glancing at the customer slip around the corner of a shelf. He was muttering to himself and grabbing things seemingly at random.

She fiddled her hands together. She spotted a worn grey coat and leather whaling boots, thick enough to make a thumping noise on the hardwood flooring as he wandered about idly. Her ears rang. Why was her heart roaring? Her stomach curdled so sharply it was hard to breathe. Her mouth tasted sour.

A clatter directly in front of her made her jump as the customer dumped his selection on the counter. It was mostly cabbages and some cucumbers, along with some carrots. “Here,” he had tossed a fistful of change and a few bills on the counter.

Sourly, she kept her mouth shut and individually counted the coins, feeling huffy. He could’ve at least had a guesstimate of what he was buying _or_ what was in his pockets. “Hey, girl.” What an ass. This was her first customer? “I said _hey, girl_.”

“And I was counting your change,” she deadpanned, glancing up at him. 

Her blood turned to ice. Strange, pale eyes were staring back at her in a hauntingly familiar frame, dark hair curling over his handsome jawline and broad nose. It was like someone took Odin and tweaked him an inch to the left and three inches up.

Olai scuffed his boot on the ground and leaned his elbow on the counter, blinking his half-lidded eyes, “...eh, you’re new in town, aren’t you.” He was staring right back at her gaze.

“I’ve been here a bit, actually,” her response was automatically curt and she had to hope it was because of his terrible manners, and not something innate. She placed his change on the counter and put her hands in her lap.

He glanced to his selection, then to her, and his eyes drifted from her gaze down to her hands. “...are you gonna put my stuff in bags or do I have to do everything?”

“We’re out of bags,” she replied, with a stack of canvas bags sitting next to her left in plain view.

He quirked a brow, disbelieving. “...uh. _Really_.”

She nodded, “Yup. It’s a shame. Totally out.”

“...then what’s that right there?” he lazily gestured to them, still leaning on the counter. She glanced at them, and then replied with so much confidence she felt like she could’ve tricked an angel, “Those aren’t bags. They’re dresses for dogs. Very popular.”

He stared at her a moment, those icicle eyes scanning her features, before his mouth split into a grin and he laughed. It was so loud in comparison to the quiet morning that she jumped in her seat again. “You know what girl, I like you. What’s your name?”

“That’s not for sale,” she replied automatically, again, and felt like kicking herself. Why was she so determined to not converse like a person with this fisherman? 

He just laughed again and scooped his selection in the crook of his arm, “I’ll learn it later. You’re cute,” he complimented, “for being another one of those freaks.” 

The ringing in her ears came to an abrupt and violent halt as he stepped out the door, and her hands shook. She slowly turned to look at her reflection in the sunlit glass that separated her from the street, from the rest of the world, from Olai walking away looking satisfied with himself, and she said aloud “I was right to be mean to him.” 

 

000

 

The rest of her morning didn’t go so sour, and after a few normal customers, she felt better in her skin. To get her mind off of it, right after work she slipped back to the beach and toed her shoes and socks off. She didn’t intend on getting her skirts wet, but she could pull them up and walk into the water. Feeling the silt on her feet would better ground her to the present.

She felt something bump her leg. Glancing down as sea spray peppered her dress in damp flecks, she could see it was a seal again. It tickled her leg with its whiskers and then looked up, bleating at her. It had such sharp teeth.

Tentatively, she reached down and petted its head. “...it's alright,” she said aloud, to herself and the seal and the sea that was beginning to rise around her knees, “I’m okay. He’s just mean.” She paused, and her stomach sank, “I hope he’s not that mean to Odin.” 

The seal flopped into the water, splashing water over Ava’s front. She sputtered only to see the seal had clasped a fish in its sharp maw and was trying to offer it to her. “N-no thank you. That’s okay,” she cautiously pet its head, it's dark pelt like a shadow under her fingers. “...you’re very kind. I’ll be okay.” 

She would be, too. One mean word from a strange man wouldn’t worry her week. She returned home, told Nevy about the good parts of her day, and worked on her chores. She was sluggish from waking so earlier, though, and Nevy clicked her tongue. “I told you that he’d work you too hard! Go to bed early,” she chided, ever the worrywart. 

Ava opened her mouth to argue, but it dissolved into a yawn and she blinked sleepily. “...alright, fine… I work tomorrow, too, you know,” she tried to offer, but Nevy just shooed her to the stairway. Her legs felt like lead as she lifted them step by step, before she collapsed into bed, closing her curtains. It would do her good to sleep off her strange feelings and twisting stomach.

Her dreams were frightening. There was yelling, objects smashing, and the roar of the sea behind it all. Someone was trying to talk. She heard them.

She woke up with a gasp. Her room was pitch black, it must’ve been far past midnight. Sluggishly, she sat up and knuckled at her eyes, listening to herself breathe and trying to work the stiffness from her limbs. The nightmare was strange for sure, but why had she woken with such urgency?

For some reason, as she rubbed her eyes, one of them hurt, enough to make her yelp. Hands smacking and feeling around the room, she opened the curtains to let some moonlight in and to peer at her faint reflection in the old glass. Nothing was wrong, but it _ached_. 

She frowned and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, wincing as the wood creaked and adjusted to her weight noisily. She hoped she wouldn’t wake Nevy up, but the aching in her eye spread to her chest, and she felt she needed air, suffocating. Wrapping a quilt around herself, she lit a candle and trotted downstairs. 

It was nice to walk through a home at night without fear of being hurt if she was caught. The air was cool, too, which did wonders for her stiff, sweaty form. She peeked in on Nevy - asleep - and Gil - asleep - before relaxing enough to slip her shoes onto her bare feet and to open the front door. A little walk wouldn’t hurt; the sight of the sea would soothe her, and the bale of the seals on the sandbar at night would be like a lullaby for her throbbing head.

She opened the front door to find Odin on her porch. He sluggishly upturned his head to look at her, eyes wide, and she was equally frozen for a moment. What was he doing here? A dark crescent was forming under his eye and his nose was blotched, too, bruises swelling. 

That’s why she had woken up, why she ached. Odin had been calling her. He was hurt.

Confusion burst to fury and she squeezed her candlestick so hard, her skin squeaked along the metal. He opened his mouth to explain, but her fingertips pressed to his mouth and she shushed him. If he tried to explain what Olai did - and she knew it must’ve been his handiwork -  she’d only get madder, and she didn’t know what she would do if she got too mad. She felt it would be something disastrously terrible.

Her hand found his and she gently tugged him inside. He seemed hesitant, but she was insistent in her tugs and soft hushes, so he followed. 

Through the hall, up the stairs, into her room, silently. She sat him on her bed and lit her bedroom candelabra, quietly taking his face into her hands to inspect the damage, but he pointedly looked away. Angry? Ashamed? She didn’t know. She couldn’t read him when he was this upset, and so she had to rely on plain old human talking.

“...Odin?” He flinched at hearing her voice. “...let me see.”

“Y-you’re not g...gonna ask?” he flicked his eyes her way and she replied with a question.

“Do you want me to ask?”

A beat. The sea crashed up the shore, glimmering through her window, sending slivers of silver light across them both. “...N-not tonight.”

“Okay.” She dampened a cloth and gently set it under his eye to ease the swelling, but his gaze was on her again. He seemed defeated somehow, not the tricky, mysterious, familiar person she’d become accustomed to. She managed to muster up a smile, but all he did was look away with a sigh, resting his hands on her bed. 

She gently wiped his nose, too, slightly bloody. She couldn’t see any other wounds, no other wincing, and her sixth sense didn’t indicate anything else hurt either. She delicately pressed the cool cloth back under his eye, wishing he’d look at her.

He was close enough that she felt his body warmth, the pressure of his weight on the bed. He smelled like sweet smoke, she realized, not like the sea. Why did she think he was going to smell like the sea, did she smell salty? She was getting off track. The silence was making her anxious, frantic, so she slid up next to him and put her hand over his.

Silence. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to conjure any kind of thought to talk about, but it felt like she’d been pushed back to step one. She didn’t want that. She didn’t want this distance to grow wider. 

Her hand tightened over his and Odin finally glanced at her in time for her to lean forward. She wasn’t bold enough for anything too overtly intimate, but she pressed her cheek to his, causing him to clam up completely. She could hear his breathing hitch and the way it caught in his lungs.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” she whispered to him, her hair tickling his nose, “But you don’t have to be alone.” The worst thing about dealing with Wrathia was the isolation, the loneliness of it all. The weight of being the only one hurting. 

A shiver ran up her back as his hand slowly settled at the back of her head, holding her close, cheek-to-cheek. His lashes brushed her cheekbone as he closed his eyes, and she shifted slightly to prop herself up on one arm to hold the position longer.

His hands were cool but his face was warm. His slight beard tickled her chin. She could hear him breathing, feel his warm exhalations against her neck. 

He slackened, just a little. Just enough for him to rest his weight against her. 

“...it's a-alright,” he spoke so quietly, she almost missed his words between her own harsh breaths. “...if h-he doesn’t hurt my s-sisters… I c-can deal with it.”

“They’re supposed to be his sisters too,” she found herself whispering back, and she heard Odin swallow. He slid down, resting his forehead against her shoulder, and his voice was so brittle when he replied “I kn-know.”

The sea roared. Ava’s heart burned, and she tightened her grip on Odin as the comfort of her presence lulled him into a doze. His grip on her went lax and she gently propped him fully against her, tugging him up against her chest rather than her shoulder, to properly grip him. After a bit of careful and gentle maneuvering, she successfully slid from his grip and positioned him on her bed, pulling the blanket over him instead, letting him rest. He deserved it. He deserved more than _this_.

She had work in just a few hours, she knew, she should rest. But instead, Ava Ire made good use of that anger Olai had so foolishly woken up.

The sea roared.

 

000

 

Poppies.

Everything smelled sweet, like poppies, and soft soaps. Odin gently nuzzled his cheek into his pillow. It was such a pleasant scent. It reminded him of all the times Ava had stood close enough to him that he was tempted to rake his fingers through her rusty red hair, to feel how soft it was. Was it as soft as it looked, light and feathery, like rabbit fur?

The thought made him smile, a little. Maybe sometime she’d let him braid it. She was less skittish around him these days, bolder, and she liked to tease him too, but not in the mean way. 

Not like how Olai ‘teased’ him.

He sighed and pulled the blanket up, hiding from the faint sunlight that peeked through the open curtains of his window-

His eyes snapped open. He didn’t have a window next to his bed. 

Shooting upright, the blanket that had been lovingly tucked over him went flying around his knees and he almost knocked a few shells off of Ava’s shelf. This was her room, not his, and he had fallen asleep in her private space like some kind of invader.

He scrambled to recollect his memories of the night before, his eyes sketching over his knees, and his cheeks burned horribly as it came back to him in waves. 

Olai had lashed out at him. Usually, his pride didn’t permit a retreat, but his brother was drunk again and wouldn’t stop. Crow and Raven were at Merida’s place, they were safe - he wasn’t. He wanted to leave, so he did, running out the door as the old wood slammed behind him, leaving the foundations of the house shuddering in the wake of his panic.

He had come to Ava’s home, but couldn’t find the nerve to confront her. He didn’t want to bother her, so he had just sat on her porch, feeling sorry for himself, like some pathetic whelp.

Ava found him anyway.

He remembered tucking against her touch so fully, so tenderly, trusting her soft words, and he had dozed off. He couldn’t help it. He could _feel_ her anger at how Olai had hit him, hurt him, and it relieved him in a way that he couldn’t describe. She was mad on his behalf and the way her clear eyes had briefly turned fierce as a storm had hooked him into following her every movement for the night. 

He had been ashamed of running, running away to her, but so pleased somehow with her hands on his face, her whispers and hot breaths across his cheek and ear. She hadn’t rejected him for his weaknesses. She had embraced him. _Helped_ him.

He slid his hands over his face with a harsh breath, his heart beat making his limbs feel like jelly.

She had said he didn’t have to talk about his bad experience, and that was nice, but he did. He wanted to talk about everything with her. Every damn thing, even how those bright eyes of his made him want to- want to kiss-

He shouldn’t have even come to her home to begin with, shouldn’t have troubled her with his problems-

His desperate, stammering thoughts came to a deadbolt halt as he realized he was alone in the room.

...where _was_ she?

He frantically raked his gaze over the dimly lit room and found no evidence of her. Hastily, he turned to slip out of bed, only to startle when thunder cracked behind him so loudly the entire room was lit in white from the lightning. 

He slowly turned to the window, wetting his lips and swallowing. A churning storm wracked the land outside, pelting the roof with heavy droplets, the morning not at all golden and sunny, but dark and grey. 

Loud, roaring, _furious_. 

The storm hadn’t been here the night before, or Odin wouldn’t have had the chance to run off for fear of getting wet.

Another thunderclap made the horizon shudder and he jumped slightly.

“...A-Ava,” he whispered hoarsely, dawning realization making his hands loosen from their fistfuls of her bedding, “h-how _mad_ are you?”

 

 


End file.
